


Artist's Angel

by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Artist Harry, Car Accidents, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Haylor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 17:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 75,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: When an accident brings two strangers together, the girl with flowers in her hair brings light to the boy with paint on his fingers and a head full of dreams.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My loves!! I can't believe I have something new like this so soon. This one is a bit unexpected - I'm hoping you'll like it. 
> 
> I'm (clearly) no doctor - my way was guided by a certain PLL plot and basic info online, so you can imagine it's not all that factual, but I think it's enough to get through the story line. Apologies for any mistakes and if this is at all triggering for anyone who has been through similar circumstance. I hope you're doing alright.
> 
> And as always, this is a complete work of fiction: I have no affiliation with anyone featured in this story, and do not want this re-posted or forwarded on to anyone in real life. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your constant support. I always love hearing from you - you can always catch me on [tumblr](http://alltootay.tumblr.com). I also have a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/fionakaay/playlist/652OokkV6DIClLMDcBA7kh) and [muse tag](http://klossrps.tumblr.com/tagged/otp:-make-art-make-love) for this fic, which you're welcome to take a peek at if you want.
> 
> Enjoy some drama, babes. All the love xx

_Crashing. Falling. Screaming. Lifeless._

Taylor woke with a jolt, her handbag slipping off her lap and spilling the contents onto the bleached tiles below. She cursed under her breath, quickly fumbling out of her uncomfortable seat to retrieve her belongings. Without any sense of organisation, she started shoving her things back in her bag; she had no reason to hurry like she was. She wasn’t going anywhere.

A lipstick tube had rolled further down the row of chairs and Taylor huffed when she caught sight of it. Why had she brought lipstick with her? Why had she brought _anything_ with her? She didn’t need to be here.

An exhausted dad looked at her sympathetically when she retreated back to the chair she had claimed as hers. His daughter, a little girl with pigtails, had been scooped up by a family friend hours ago, was safely tucked in under a warm blanket by now. Taylor had a feeling he wished he could be with her, but he was glued to the chair opposite hers just as she was to her own. The only difference was he was here for someone he knew, someone he loved. Taylor didn’t know why she was here.

“Not the best place for some sleep, huh?” he commented, initiating another small conversation that would pass some of the minutes that seemed to drag on at a snail’s pace.

“Not really, no,” Taylor agreed, though it wasn’t the discomfort of sitting in a worn seat that had woken her up: the awful recollection of eight hours ago had.

“Have you heard anything?” she asked out of politeness. The man’s son had been rushed into emergency surgery, but she didn’t have the heart to ask what for. He didn’t look like he really wanted to talk about it.

“Not yet,” he sighed. He had been sitting here longer than she had, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine the weight of what he was feeling right now. “A nurse checked on yours about twenty minutes ago.”

_Yours._ A part of Taylor wanted to laugh, but she just nodded, thankful for the information.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” he kindly offered, already pushing himself up to stand.

“I’d love a coffee, actually,” Taylor realised, rummaging through her bag to find her purse until the man waved her off with, “It’s on me.” She smiled at him gratefully and sunk herself down in her chair, trying to get herself back into a semi-comfortable position.

Why were hospital chairs so uncomfortable anyway? Considering how many hours people were left anxiously sitting in them, they should at least provide something that didn’t turn your ass numb after a mere hour.

The door to ‘her’ room was shut, but the window that bordered the room let her know that nothing had changed since the last time she had checked. ‘Her’ person was still lying perfectly still on his bed, like he hadn’t moved at all for hours. Like he might never move again.

Taylor couldn’t explain why the thought made her throat tighten and her eyes start to sting. The last doctor she had cornered had assured her he was going to be fine, told her that she should come back in the morning if she wanted to see him. Why she hadn’t listened was a mystery; she didn’t even _know_ the boy lying motionless in that room.

But she had washed his blood off her hands earlier, so maybe it made sense after all.

The generous dad shortly returned with a cardboard cup in each hand, Taylor thanking him as she gratefully accepted one from him. They fell back into their silence, neither of them up for formalities when their minds were running circles. It might’ve been a nice distraction, but at two in the morning all either of them wanted was to be put at ease, and to be back home safely in bed.

A while later, a nurse Taylor hadn’t seen before went into the room she couldn’t seem to stop watching. Everyone else had turned her away, but she decided to give it another go with someone new.

Taylor was up and waiting for the unsuspecting woman, pouncing as soon as she opened the door to leave. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, ma’am?” the nurse answered her with a polite smile. She was young, probably more vulnerable, and Taylor was sure she could crack her.

“Can I see him?” she asked, mustering up as much graciousness as she could when she was as drained as she was. “Please?”

“He’s still unconscious,” she was informed. “Are you family?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” Taylor blurted out before she could even think it through. “Please, I was there and I just want to sit with him. That’s all.”

“ _Wellllllll_ …” The nurse chewed her lower lip, clearly debating letting her in. Everyone else Taylor had asked had given her a big _no_ , because apparently, it didn’t matter that _she_ had been the one to _save_ _him_ , she didn’t share his DNA so she wasn’t allowed to see him. But maybe if she had pulled the girlfriend card earlier, she might’ve been given more sympathy.

“Please? I’ve been here for hours,” Taylor pressed on pleadingly. “I just want to sit in there. I’m not gonna… _do_ anything. I just want to see him. Maybe hearing a familiar voice will help him?”

She might have been right: a familiar voice _could’ve_ been of help, but she certainly didn’t have one he would recognise. There was nothing more she could do to help him, and yet the naïve nurse was swayed by her lie.

“A couple of minute can’t hurt, I guess. Just don’t touch anything. And don’t tell anyone I let you in, okay?”

“I promise,” Taylor smiled in relief. “Thank you so, so much, you’re the best.”

Once she was inside, she didn’t quite know how to feel. The room was silent, apart from the faint buzz of machines and the constant bleep of a heart rate monitor. It played a strong heartbeat, thank god. A regular, continuous heartbeat.

The boy laying on the bed looked peaceful. He didn’t look like he was in any pain, though she was sure that would change when he awoke and found he was battered all over. His right leg had a cast extending from his ankle to his thigh to secure a fracture, his arms grazed, the result of landing hard and awkwardly on unforgiving asphalt. There was a cut on the back of his head, one that had required a couple stitches. He likely had a concussion, but he would (hopefully) be fine.

He was gorgeous. It probably wasn’t what Taylor should be thinking about at a time like this, but he really was. His features were perfectly sculpted, a softness taking over his face as he lay there undisturbed. His rich brown curls were fanned out on the pillow; she almost wanted to reach out and touch them, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. Curiously he had quite the collection of tattoos decorating his arms, had more that she couldn’t see hiding under his hospital gown. She wanted to ask him what they meant, but whether he would want to talk to her was a question for later.

His name was Harry. According to the driver’s license she had found in his wallet while she was waiting for help, Harry Styles wasn’t from here: another Brit chasing a New York dream. Whatever that dream was was a mystery to Taylor, one she strangely felt herself longing to learn.

It was shock keeping her here at the hospital. She couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. She could still hear the horrific smack of body on metal. She could still hear her own scream.

Taylor tried to shake the thought out of her head, difficult when the biggest reminder was right there in front of her. She gave a heavy sigh, absently tapping her fingers on the edge of the mattress as she slumped forward in the chair she had pulled up. It was stupid, was sure to get her into trouble if she was caught, but she slowly, carefully, ran her hand over to his, sliding hers underneath and cautiously interlocking their fingers loosely. She didn’t know what she was trying to achieve – a comfort, a closeness, perhaps. A reassurance that he was there and he was breathing and he was going to be perfectly fine.

He wasn’t supposed to react. The small physical contact wasn’t supposed to do a thing to him, except, if she let herself be overly optimistic, maybe make his rest a little better knowing there was someone who cared waiting for him.

Harry slightly squeezed her hand first, his eyelids starting to flutter. His sweet face scrunched up in a tired, pained frown, his eyes blinking a couple times as he tried to adjust to the stark white of the room, tried to figure out where he was. When his gaze shortly landed on her, Taylor was surprised by the crystal green she was faced with.

“Am I dead?” he asked, his voice slow and incredibly soft.

Sighing, she shook her head in relief. “You’re very much alive.”

“Then why am I talking to an angel?”

His words took her by surprise, and it was a damn good thing the nurse came hurrying back in at that moment, asking her to leave. It was likely just his confusion making him mumble, “Why does she have to go? Can’t she stay?”

A doctor pushed past her as she stood in the doorway, closing it in her face. Taylor went back to watching him through the window, and this time she found Harry looking back at her, dazed with people fussing about with machines and asking him questions.

Taylor knew she didn’t need to stay. And finally, she left.

 

*** * * * ***

Her alarm went off at ten thirty and Taylor shoved her face back into her pillow. She hadn’t had enough sleep. How was she supposed to function normally at work after the night she had had?

Forcing herself out of bed, Taylor trudged herself through her morning routine. She sipped at a cup of strong coffee while she did her make-up, praising the inventor of concealer that helped her hide the dark rims below her eyes. By the time she was done, she actually looked normal, the redness in her eyes faded thanks to her contact solution working its magic.

She poured another coffee into a travel thermos, the pretty pink patterned exterior contrasting her mood. She scratched one of her cats behind the ears before she left, longing to be able to stay in bed and cuddle up with her favourite pets. She could call in sick, but she never liked being an inconvenience.

Taylor was glad she didn’t work in the city. Her apartment was a nice distance away that it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get to when she felt like it, but far enough that she didn’t get caught up in daily traffic jams on her way to work. It made her feel like she was a thriving city girl while keeping her in a pleasant suburb that was easier to call home.

Parking in the closest lot, Taylor slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress (the ornate design had caught her eye, but the pockets had really won her over when she saw it hanging on a clothing rack a few weeks ago) as she headed down the street, passing shop fronts she knew by heart until she reached her favourite: Flora Bliss.

When Taylor moved to New York two years ago, it was because she landed a dream job working at a florist she had been admiring on Instagram for far longer. Flora Bliss was a relatively well-known shop that sold beautifully-arranged bouquets and catered for events – mostly weddings – too. All the girls working there crafted arrangements, only the permanent ones allowed to come up with new designs. The best made it onto the store’s official Instagram page, which helped build business, and Taylor’s aesthetic eye meant that many of hers were credited for the world to see. On occasion, she was even specifically requested by brides-to-be. It was the sort of thing she could’ve only fantasised about just a few years ago.

As soon as she passed through the door, the bell tinkling on her way in and the gorgeous scent of fresh flowers immediately filling her nose, the girl at the counter looked over at her with a smile. “Hey, Taylor.”

“Hi, Mandy,” Taylor replied with a cheerfulness she hoped didn’t sound forced. “How has it been today?”

“Slow. I’m so bored.” Amanda dramatically flopped herself down on the counter, making Taylor smile.

Amanda was one of the casual girls, having started only a few months ago. She worked in between studying at NYU, and Taylor quite liked her. She was six years younger, but she was bubbly and funny and had a confidence that Taylor secretly envied. Working with her always seemed to make for a good shift – which was exactly what Taylor needed today.

Pushing away the beaded partition behind the counter, Taylor let herself into the back room, setting her bag down and finding the manager/owner Crista sitting at a desk, frowning over a laptop. She looked up when she heard Taylor come in, offering a welcoming smile as she pushed her wild hair back from her face.

“How are you today?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. Crista was in her early thirties; the business was her baby.

“I’m doing okay,” Taylor answered, which was about as best as she could muster up without outright lying. Crista didn’t probe her, which came as a relief.

“I’ve got a list for you – can you finish before you close up today, please? I’m about to head out; I’m keeping Amanda on the counter.”

“Sure thing.”

With a list of arrangements that needed to be made, Taylor was more than happy to have something to keep her occupied over her shift. It was easier than having to be peppy for customers out in the shop when she was running on not enough sleep and trying to block out a horrendous memory from less than twenty-four hours ago. Repetitively bunching flowers together was somewhat therapeutic.

She manned the counter over the last half hour of her shift once Amanda left, only a few people wandering in to browse. She turned the sign on the door over at five thirty and gave the floor a sweep before she counted the till and finished up with the end of day process, making sure that everything was safely locked up before she left.

Instead of going straight home like she ordinarily would’ve, Taylor headed back to the place she had resided overnight.

At the reception in the hospital, she disappointingly discovered visiting hours finished at six. That gave her less than ten minutes. That didn’t sound nearly long enough to ease the itching feeling that wouldn’t leave her alone.

Sometime during the day, Harry Styles had been moved to a different room, presumably because he was in a better state now that he was awake. Taylor took the elevator up to the right floor and counted up the room numbers as she walked down the hall, keeping a tight hold on the bouquet in her hands. She hoped someone would be able to get some water to keep them in.

When she reached room 426, Taylor hesitated at the closed door. She felt like she needed to do this for herself. But was it something _he_ needed?

Five minutes. Five minutes was all they had. They could both manage that.

Knocking on the door, it was only a few seconds before she heard a “Come in” called back. She slowly opened the door up, and as soon as the boy sitting in the bed saw who was coming to see him this time, he immediately lit up.

“Angel!” Harry smiled with a surprising amount of enthusiasm for someone who was stuck in a hospital bed. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Taylor said, softer as she stepped over to pull up a chair. There was another bed in this room, only it was currently empty, the sheets crumpled from where someone had recently been. There were curtains to give each patient privacy, all pulled back.

“I’m good, yeah. I had a bit of a headache earlier, but they’ve given me plenty of painkillers, so I can’t complain. Could be worse.”

It could be a _lot_ worse. Taylor found it a miracle that it wasn’t.

“Are those for me?” Harry asked, looking towards the flowers still gripped in her hand. She nodded quickly and he smiled. Oh god, he had a really nice smile. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“It was no trouble. I’m a florist – I worked today, that’s why I couldn’t come in earlier.”

“So… you _made_ this for me?” he said, his green eyes shining. “They’re beautiful. What are they?”

Taylor pointed out each of the different plants she had used in making the purple-toned bouquet she had set aside especially for Harry: tulips, hyacinths and roses. It hadn’t occurred to her _not_ to bring something along for him, and judging by the wondrous way Harry was looking at her as she spoke, it hadn’t been a mistake.

“Wow. They’re so pretty, thank you,” he smiled at her genuinely, suddenly holding his right hand out to her. “I’m Harry. I don’t normally get flowers, especially from strangers.”

Slipping her hand into his, Taylor gave a polite shake. “Taylor. I don’t normally get flowers, but I do like giving them.”

Harry held onto her hand for a little too long, and she couldn’t say she minded. “Can I ask why you’re giving them to _me?”_

Taylor blinked. She didn’t have a coherent answer for that. “I wanted to.”

“But why me?”

Oh god. He didn’t remember. Of course he didn’t remember.

“I, um. Well, I was,” she stammered, swallowing uncertainly. “I was there when… you know…”

Harry’s gaze fell, turning to the cast that covered his right leg. “Oh,” he sighed quietly.

“Do you… do you know what happened?”

“Yeah. I mean, sort of. I don’t remember everything, but, um, the doctor said that was normal. I’ve got a concussion – and a bit of amnesia, according to one of the nurses. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember having a girlfriend before I ended up in here.”

When Harry’s eyes returned to hers, there was a playful look in them, a smile working its way back onto his lips. Yeah, she really should’ve thought through that lie before she blurted it out. It had her blushing now, fiddling with the white plastic that covered the stems of the bouquet.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just, no one would let me see you, and I thought if they thought we were together, they would give me more sympathy.”

God, that sounded bad. Why did she ever open her mouth at all?

“’s okay. Can’t say I’m upset to hear I’ve suddenly acquired such a beautiful girlfriend.”

Taylor’s jaw almost dropped this time. He couldn’t possibly be flirting with her. It was probably just all the drugs he’d been given.

Before she could get another word out, the door to the room swung open again, and a short nurse glanced the two of them over. “Visiting hours are over. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Can we have one more minute, please?” Harry asked her, sounding impossibly polite with his proper British accent. “And would you mind getting some water for these flowers, please?”

“Of course.”

As soon as the nurse was gone, Harry turned his smile back to Taylor. “Thank you for coming to see me. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Taylor repeated, and again, she felt her next sentence forming on her tongue without being processed first. “Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier – I can come back tomorrow, if you’d like? I’m only working until twelve.”

“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.”

“It’s no big deal. I don’t have any other plans, anyway.”

“Well… if you wouldn’t _mind_ ,” Harry smiled a little shyer. “I’d like to get to talk to you some more.”

“I’ll come tomorrow then. Do you have to stay here long?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so. Just a couple days for observation.”

“Okay, well, I hope you have a nice night.”

“You too, Taylor.”

When Taylor got home, she immediately collapsed down on top of her bed, listening to the phone ring as she pressed it to her ear, the sound of the voice at the other end saying hello bringing tears to her eyes. “Mom? Last night I saw a boy get hit by a car.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

On Tuesday, Taylor had been walking home from a trip to the grocery store. She had filled in the morning shift for one of the other girls and had forgotten to make a stop on her way home, deciding to walk to the nearest shop later in the day instead of taking her car again. The exercise was good for her, and it was a nice June late afternoon, after all. The sky was a pretty shade of blue, the setting sun casting soft oranges over the horizon. By the time she was nearing her street, it was well into dusk.

She had heard the screeching tires of a car driving too fast in the vicinity, but it wasn’t something she put too much thought into. She had kept walking down the sidewalk, lost in her own daydreams as she made her journey home.

She had seen a boy come out from around the corner of the next street ahead. He had been jogging, wearing a loose pair of shorts and a tight t-shirt, clinging to the muscles in his arms. Even from a distance, she could clearly see the bright pink of his Nikes. She hadn’t been close enough to tell whether he was cute or not.

All that changed when the boy went to cross the road. He was halfway across when the sound of the speeding car was suddenly too loud, too close. Neither of them had seen it coming when it came careening around the corner, not having the time or the control to stop from colliding with the boy in the middle of the road.

Taylor had screamed when she watched Harry be flung through the air like a ragdoll from the impact. The car didn’t even stop. It just kept on driving like a fucking maniac, not giving a shit about what they’d done. They just wanted to get out of there before they got in trouble for their reckless abandon.

By the time Taylor had dropped the shopping bags in her hand and ran to the middle of the road, Harry was already unconscious. He had hit the back of his head on the landing and when she had very carefully slipped her hand underneath his head, careful not to move him too much in case of any spinal injury, her fingers were wet with the warmth of his blood. Immediately, she fumbled to pull her phone out of her handbag that was still slung over her shoulder and dialled 911.

Taylor had waited there on the street until the ambulance arrived. A couple of people who had heard the commotion had come out of their houses and offered to stand around them as a sort of barrier, directing traffic to make sure the two of them didn’t end up getting completely squished. Taylor had kept her other hand over the pulse on his neck and ensured he was always still breathing. She was terrified, absolutely shaken, but what she had learnt from every crime show she had ever watched had kicked in and managed to keep her calm.

When help arrived, Taylor had gladly let the paramedics take over, had been given something to wipe her bloody hand with that wasn’t her white dress. She was briefly treated for shock before she was asked to recount the scene to a policeman, who jotted notes down in a small pad. She tried to give him everything she possibly could, every detail she could recall to be of some actual help. Her description of the car wasn’t picture perfect, but it wasn’t too bad considering how fast the whole thing had happened.

The policeman had offered her a ride the rest of the way home, and as soon as she left her retrieved bags on the kitchen counter, she had grabbed her own car keys and driven straight to the hospital, where she had taken up her post waiting for news about Harry.

She needed to know he was okay. She needed to know that she hadn’t just watched someone unfairly lose their life over someone else’s idiotic irresponsibility.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

It was much earlier when Taylor returned to the hospital the next day. Her sleep had been broken, but she was feeling better, a weight that had been on her starting to ease off.

On her way, she had picked up some lunch for the two of them, which she smuggled inside with it stuffed at the bottom of her handbag. Needless to say, Harry was very pleased to see her walk in through the door and offer him something better than the plain sandwich and pudding cup he had been given on a plastic tray earlier.

“You’re _actually_ an angel, you know that, right?” Harry told her, having swallowed a bite of the burger she had picked up from a local joint on the way. It was fresh and delicious, and Taylor felt guilty about the poor person stuck in the other bed in the shared room having to endure the mouth-watering smells wafting over the drawn curtain.

Simply smiling at his compliment, Taylor began unwrapping her own meal. “How are you feeling today?”

“A million times better since you got here,” he replied without a trace of irony, and Taylor had to laugh.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I brought you food.”

“Well, yes, there’s that,” he laughed, suddenly wincing in discomfort.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just, hurts to laugh,” Harry explained, running a tender hand over his chest, her gaze following the motion. He smiled at her reassuringly. “Just some bruised ribs. Nothing too bad.”

“You literally have a cast taking up your entire leg.”

“And some stitches in the back of my head, but who’s counting?”

Harry grinned, a dimple appearing on the left side, and Taylor cursed the part of her that internally swooned. Harry was attractive, sure, but he was younger than she was and she hardly knew anything about him.

“Wanna see?” he asked, sounding like a child as he swivelled around on the spot to show her the back of his head. She could clearly see the place where he had been stitched up, and she wasn’t so sure she was supposed to.

“What?” he questioned when he turned back to find the uneasy look on her face.

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me like it’s something. Tell me.”

“It’s just…” Taylor paused, trying to figure out the best way to put it. “To clean the cut, they kind of… shaved some of your hair.”

“They did _what?!”_

Having obviously been told not to touch his head to avoid infection, Harry was unaware that while he was unconscious and therefore had no say in the matter, the doctors had shaved a little patch of his dark hair surrounding the cut. Whether that had been entirely necessary, neither of them could say, but Harry clearly wasn’t pleased to hear this news.

“Can you take a picture to show me?” he asked, and once she snapped a photo on her phone and let him inspect the doctor’s work, he groaned again. “I’m only twenty and I already have a bloody bald spot!”

“It’s not that bad,” Taylor tried to assure him. “If you style the hair around it, you could cover it and no one would even know. Besides, you’ve obviously been in an accident, so it’s not like people wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re being awfully polite about this, Taylor,” Harry said, and she would be lying if she said that it was anything other than the way her name sounded coming out of his mouth that made her smile. “Tell me something about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like anything.”

Taylor scrunched her pink lips to the side as she thought about it. She didn’t know what to say; she didn’t consider herself all that exciting.

“What do you like to do when you’re not working?” Harry thankfully prompted.

“Um… I like baking.”

“Yeah? What do you like to make?”

“I love cakes. And pies. A good pie is always nice.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have brought dessert with you, would you?” Harry wondered playfully, making her laugh as he leaned over to pretend to peer into her bag.

“Don’t push your luck,” Taylor smiled at him, friendly. “What do you do?”

“I’m an artist.” As he sat back, taking another bite from his burger, he reconsidered. “Well, I’m officially a waiter, but I’d like to be an artist.”

That certainly piqued her interest. “What’s your medium?”

“Um, I like a lot of charcoal. Painting, too. Bit of everything, really.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not very. I wanted to go to art school here, but I missed the deadline for applications. I’m just kind of seeing if I like it here enough to stay for a couple years, you know?”

She nodded, genuinely meaning it when she said, “I hope it all works out for you.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, looking a little tentative as he suggested, “Maybe… maybe, if you’re not busy sometime, I could show you some stuff? If you’d want to?”

He looked so hopeful, it would be cruel to turn him down. Not that that thought even crossed her mind: she was enjoying talking to him, and for reasons unbeknownst to her, she was craving an excuse to see him again, however small.

“I’d love to! I love going to galleries and that sort of thing.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes shining. “Me too.”

For someone unfortunately stuck in a hospital with uncomfortable injuries, Harry sure had a sunshiny demeanour. It was almost like he wasn’t at all bothered by his situation; Taylor was unaware that it was her bringing out this joy in him. She had no reason to think she had anything to do with it.

They chatted for a long while, getting to know each other. They started to tell each other about their families, where they grew up, their friends, the jobs they’d had, and some of the places in New York they thought the other should visit. It turned out Harry didn’t live too far from Taylor, in an apartment block only about fifteen minutes away further toward the city – a perfect excuse to catch up again.

It had been longer than she wanted to admit that Taylor had last befriended a boy – one she thought was cute, at least. Not that she wanted anything from him, not when they had only just met under not exactly the best circumstances. She could concede that Harry was attractive, though, especially when he smiled. And when he looked at her, Harry smiled a _lot_.

“They said I should be able to go home tomorrow,” Harry let her know cheerily. “My head’s fine, which was what they were worried about.”

“That’s good news,” Taylor smiled at him honestly. “Are you gonna be okay? Do you have anyone to help you get around?”

“Um, not really,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I should be alright. Can’t be too hard to get around with a broken leg. Though, going to the bathroom has proved to be quite a mission – not that you needed to know that, sorry.”

“I can imagine it is,” she laughed lightly, though she had to agree, it was a mental image she really didn’t need. “You know, I’ve got some room at my place, if you’d feel more comfortable having someone around.”

Apparently, Taylor’s tongue wasn’t connected to her brain when it came to Harry. Did she really just offer to let a near-stranger into her home? Was she _insane?_ Maybe _she_ was the one who needed to get their head checked out.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on you,” Harry immediately declined. “You really don’t have to do anything for me. You already brought me lunch, and flowers, and, you know, saved my life.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, mumbling, “I didn’t really.”

“Sure you did. If you weren’t there, who knows what could’ve happened. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I just did what anyone would do.”

“Considering I was just hit by a car that didn’t even bother to stop, I can’t say I have a great deal of faith in everyone right now.”

He did have a fair point there.

“Have you heard anything more from the police?”

“Yeah, um, they said that they found the car – thanks to your description, actually. It was abandoned somewhere, had already been reported stolen. They’re looking for the driver, but I’m not really getting my hopes up.”

“They might find them.”

Harry just shrugged. Finding who had done this to him wasn’t going to magically heal his wounds. It would offer some consolation, but with everything else that went on in the city, it was understandable not to get too hopeful over the thought of the perpetrator being found.

“Are you serious about letting me stay with you?” Harry asked her, looking at her seriously. “I really wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or anything.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Taylor naturally assured him, whether it was really true or not. She always loved to please people.

“It’s just, my flat doesn’t have a lift, and I might end up breaking my neck if I try getting up the stairs like this,” he said, gesturing over himself. “But I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to offer.”

“You don’t really know many people here,” she noted.

“I don’t really know _you_ ,” he countered, giving a small smile. “You don’t seem like you’re someone trying to lure me in to kill me, though. You’ve got this beautiful good girl look about you. Unless that’s your cover, which, in that case, I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of fooling me.”

Taylor couldn’t help her laugh, which made Harry’s smile widen. “Thank you, but no, I’m not a murderer. I really hope you’re not, either.”

“Oh, didn’t you know? I actually fled England after a killing spree. They’ll never find me now.”

They bother burst into ridiculous giggles, and it just felt so _natural_. Harry was surprisingly so easy to get along with, like she didn’t really have to try to impress him. Like she had _already_ impressed him and he was acting with her like he would with any of his friends. It was refreshing and kind of amazing, actually.

“There’s an elevator in my building. I can’t give you your own room, but if you need somewhere to stay, I don’t mind,” Taylor told him. Maybe it was some loneliness kicking in, but she felt compelled to help him. They had an odd kind of connection, one she wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“You don’t have a problem with cats, right?” she had to check. “Or plants?”

“I’ve been known to like cats and plants,” Harry grinned at her, and Taylor’s heart did a little flutter. A man who liked cats and plants was basically her dream, and she had to remind herself to _slow down._ That was such a ridiculous thing to think about someone she just met. He probably didn’t even think she was really that pretty, anyway.

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Harry asked again. “I don’t want to, like, cramp your style.”

Taylor snorted a laugh, which only seemed to prove the point she was about to make. “I don’t have a style for you to cramp.”

Harry grinned, unjudging. “No wild parties then?”

“God, no. You really don’t have to worry about that.”

“Well… if you’re sure – you can change your mind, if you want – could you come and pick me up, please? And stop by my place to grab some stuff? It’ll only be for a couple weeks, ‘til I can get the cast off.”

“Of course,” Taylor smiled kindly, impulsively reaching out to lightly touch his arm. “I’d be happy to have you around.”

Her words lit up his face, flooding him with relief that he had _someone_ in this big city who had his back.

When she soon went to go, Harry caught her hand, his warm and sending a spark shooting up her arm as he looked up at her with big green eyes. “Taylor?” he smiled a little nervously, “Is it okay if – I know my phone got a bit wrecked, but could I get your number?”

A smile sweeping her own face, Taylor didn’t even have to think about it before she scribbled her number down for him on the top piece of paper on the notepad sitting on the bedside table. His phone hadn’t made it through the accident unscathed: it had fallen out his pocket, headphones pulled out his ears and the screen shattering upon bouncing on the road. It still worked though, which was the main thing.

Harry thanked her, and after they waved each other off, Taylor walked down the hall to the elevator with a little spring in her step. She might’ve been nuts, but maybe her spontaneity would actually pay off.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Reasons Taylor wanted to invite Harry to stay with her:

  * He seemed like a genuine guy
  * She wanted to get to know him
  * It would be good to make a new friend
  * It might be nice to have a roommate again
  * She would always have someone to hang around and joke with
  * She didn’t want him to hurt himself more by being on his own



Reasons Taylor didn’t want to invite Harry to stay with her:

  * She didn’t really know him
  * Even if he wasn’t a murderer, he could still be some kind of psychopath
  * She wasn’t used to sharing
  * She would have to curb any embarrassing behaviour
  * He might have some gross habit she couldn’t stand
  * She wouldn’t know how to kick him out if she needed to



Reasons Taylor didn’t want to admit to why she wanted to invite Harry to stay with her:

  * He was gorgeous
  * She was lonely
  * It had been nearly two years since she last had a boyfriend (or slept with anyone)
  * She felt like she owed him



 

On Friday morning, Taylor went on a mad cleaning frenzy. It would’ve been nice to relax on her day off, but instead she was running around sweeping all the floors, vacuuming the couch, scrubbing the bathroom, and wiping down every available surface. She even gave the windows a quick wash, as if Harry was really going to get up close enough to inspect for any dust particles stuck to the glass. She threw a spare set of sheets in the washing machine to freshen up and checked that she did in fact still have the inflatable mattress she had taken camping a few years ago. It wasn’t fancy, but it was better than nothing.

By midday, Taylor felt exhausted. Meredith, the older of her two cats, had taken up residence on the couch, giving her a smug look as if to challenge why she had even bothered trying to clean it when it was immediately going to get covered in cat hair again.

“You’re right,” Taylor said, throwing up her hands. “He’s not even going to notice anyway.”

She showered before she even considered leaving the house, washing the lingering smell of chemicals off her skin. On her way to the bedroom, wrapped up in just a towel, she had to remind herself that that was something she wouldn’t be able to do anymore. She would have to think twice before she ended up showing more than she intended on to the boy who was going to be rooming with her for the next eight weeks.

She dressed in a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt, hoping to still look nice despite not trying particularly hard. She kissed both cats on their furry heads for luck, grabbed her keys, and prayed that she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

Harry was particularly chipper when Taylor arrived. He had already changed out of his hospital gown and was back in the jogging clothes he had been wearing when he arrived, even though it did seem a tad bit inappropriate. He could always change once they picked up his stuff, anyway.

“My angel’s come to whisk me away,” Harry greeted her theatrically, sitting up in his bed with an eager smile. “I take it you haven’t changed your mind overnight?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had,” Taylor pointed out, returning his smile as she crossed the room. “I talked to a nurse on the way up: she’s gonna come by with a wheelchair for you, said that we need to go to the pharmacy to hire one for you once you sign out.”

“Ay, ay, captain,” he said, playfully saluting her. She rolled her eyes, but she still let out a small laugh.

The nurse didn’t take long to appear, wheeling in a chair and helping Harry manoeuvre from the bed and down into it. Taylor watched her carefully, making sure she knew what to do in case she needed to help him the same.

With the few possessions he had come in with, Taylor pushed him down the hall and out the front of the building, despite his protest that he was perfectly capable of getting along by himself. Harry waited while she went to get her car, pulling up right by the door and getting back out to help him into the backseat. It wasn’t easy trying to manoeuvre a long-limbed boy into the back, especially when her car wasn’t even that big and he couldn’t bend one of his legs, but he eventually settled safely inside. Once she returned the wheelchair to the front desk, they were on their way.

They stopped by the closest pharmacy, where Harry waited in the car while Taylor went to hire him his own wheelchair and a pair of crutches, just to cover all bases. She put both in the trunk before they headed for Harry’s apartment.

“Call me when you get in,” Harry told her as he handed over his set of keys, only a couple on the ring. “Sorry it’s a bit of a mess, I was kind of in the middle of something.”

He wasn’t joking. When Taylor let herself into a room on the fifth floor, she walked in on what she imaged was the inside of Harry’s mind: an explosion of creativity.

It was only a tiny studio flat, and most of it was filled with artwork. There were pictures stuck up on the walls without a clear order, pencils and paints scattered on a coffee table, a bookcase full of heavy art books and worn-in sketchbooks. There was an easel set up near the window, a large canvas resting atop with only a wash of pink shades painted over as a background. She couldn’t even begin to guess what he planned to put on top.

In one corner, he simply had a mattress resting on the floor with a basic partition separating it from the rest of the room. The bed (if you could call it that) was unmade, and the minimal furniture he had all looked to be nothing that cost too much. With what he couldn’t fill with flash furnishings thanks to the price of rent for even such a small place in New York, he more than made up for by pumping life into his apartment through his wild collection of art and supplies that exuded individuality.

As Taylor looked around, she realised Harry was the very definition of a starving artist.

Before she could indulge in the temptation of a bit of snooping, Taylor fished out her phone and dialled Harry’s contact, having saved his number when he messaged her shortly after she had left the hospital the previous afternoon. He answered almost immediately.

“You in?”

“Yeah,” Taylor sighed airily. “This is amazing, Harry. It’s so… I feel like I’m looking at something I shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to _have_ to look at something you shouldn’t, unless you’re expecting me not to wear any underpants for the next few weeks.”

Taylor laughed, missing the smile it brought to Harry’s face in the car.

Following his instructions, she began packing some of his things into a suitcase she found in the bottom of his closet. She folded t-shirts and shorts, a pair of sweatpants, a couple shoes and socks, a selection of toiletries, and yes, a few pairs of underwear. He wore boxer briefs with a Calvin Klein band, and as she folded them to set in one corner of the suitcase, she tried not to picture what he would look like wearing only them.

She managed to shove some of his art things he wanted to bring along on top of everything else (she was good at packing things neatly), but she ended up having to carry his smaller easel and a couple blank canvases stacked up on her arm. She brought his belongings out to her car before going back for a heavier box of paints, as well as the food in his kitchen that wasn’t going to keep.

They stopped by the supermarket on their way home, Harry coming in with her so he could give his input on what he liked to eat. He wasn’t fussy, which was a bit of a relief for Taylor. She wasn’t going to have to particularly change what she normally made for herself, would only have to make more.

“Healing food,” Harry explained as he tossed a couple packets of gummy bears into the cart she was pushing down the confectionary aisle. Taylor smiled, rolling her eyes, and threw in a block of chocolate for good measure.

“What do you feel like for dinner?” she asked, careful not to bump into him as she walked down on his right side.

“Um,” he thought, tilting his head to the side. Since they’d started wandering around, he had received some lingering stares, but he didn’t seem to care much about the attention. “I wouldn’t mind some Mexican. D’you like tacos?”

“Who _doesn’t?”_ Taylor smiled at him, and he actually looked _happy_ as he wheeled himself around the store, his broken leg propped up ahead of him like a stark white beacon for nosy shoppers.

When they got to the checkout, Harry handed over some of the cash he had in his wallet to cover what he had chosen, which Taylor reluctantly accepted. The cashier didn’t comment on his state, much to both of their relief, and they began their short drive to Taylor’s apartment.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. The entire ride over, she worried about what he was going to think. As much as his place was a representation of who he was, hers was just the same. Taylor was desperately seeking approval, especially since he was going to be staying with her for an extended period of time. She didn’t want to spend weeks with him thinking she was an utter whack job.

“Wow,” Harry exhaled when Taylor let them inside, his awe reflecting her own when she had entered his space. She cringed beside him, despite his tone holding no trace of judgment. “You weren’t kidding about being into nature.”

Taylor’s room looked part apartment, part greenhouse. To compensate for not having a garden, she had filled her space with more indoor plants than most regular people would ever consider keeping. She didn’t have a couple for decoration here and there – oh no, Taylor had pots all over the place, all with an array of flourishing greenery. On the windowsills she even had some herbs growing, finding it rewarding to be able to use her own produce in her cooking. More than once she had caught her cats nibbling on the ends of leaves – not to mention the pots they had accidently knocked over and broken – but for the most part, her plants had no problem growing thanks to her never-ending TLC.

While _she_ loved it, Taylor didn’t particularly have confidence in bringing any guys home to see her passion for all things flora. It was a little overwhelming for someone not expecting it.

Harry, though, looked up at her with an admiring smile. “It’s wonderful. It feels really calming in here,” he thought, rolling a bit further along.

“Thanks,” Taylor said gently, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t know you were into riding,” he said, nodding towards the bike she had leaning up against one of the walls. It was a white vintage cruiser, complete with a basket that currently held a pot of purple geraniums. She didn’t use it incredibly often, but it was an enjoyable way to get around when the weather was pleasant. In his apartment, he had a bike propped up inside too, which she assumed was his main mode of transport around the new city he called home. “Maybe we could go for a ride together once I get my cast off.”

“That sounds fun,” she nodded. She moved to put the shopping bags in her hands on the kitchen bench, starting to put some of it away before she heard Harry’s little exclamation of delight.

“Who’s this?” he asked, and she turned to see him reaching over to pick up one of her cats that had come to inspect their new visitor.

“Olivia,” she supplied, watching as he lifted the white cat up onto his lap for a welcoming pat. “She’s friendly. It’s Meredith who can be kind of a bitch.”

Harry laughed, stroking Olivia down her back as she looked up at him curiously. “She’s very soft. I hope she’ll like me.”

“She will,” Taylor assured him, leaving the groceries in search of her other beloved pet. Meredith was curled up on the end of her bed licking at her paw, not particularly appreciating being interrupted, looking wildly unimpressed as Taylor carried her out to meet him.

“She looks a bit mad,” Harry commented, tilting his head a little to the side as he looked up at her.

“She always looks like this,” she deadpanned, pressing a kiss to Meredith’s furry head before letting her get back to her grooming in peace. “I’ll just go get the rest of your stuff and then you can start getting settled, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, happy to wait with Olivia purring in his lap.

It took Taylor two trips to collect everything from her car; at least she had the handy elevator. She set his things neatly by the couch, and gave him the grand tour of her bedroom and bathroom that came off of the main open plan space. Her apartment was hardly huge, but there was no doubting that it was bigger than Harry’s.

While he got comfortable stretched out on the couch, a pillow propping up his leg, Taylor got to inflating the mattress she pulled out from under her bed, glad to discover that it hadn’t gotten any holes in it since last time. She fixed it up with the freshly washed sheets and a light blanket, Harry’s own pillow topping it off. He didn’t seem to care that the set up wasn’t fancy, which was a relief. He was just thankful to have someplace he could stay.

He even tried to offer to help make dinner, despite his inability to walk around on his own two feet. Taylor suspected he was already feeling guilty about having her do things for him, but it was something he was going to have to get used to.

“I feel like I’m back home again,” Harry said when they sat down at the dining table across from each other, little bowls filled with toppings laid out between them. “I haven’t had anyone cook for me since I got here.”

“I’m honoured to be the first,” Taylor smiled at him warmly. “Even though I didn’t actually cook most of this.”

“Shh,” he grinned, waving his hand dismissively before reaching to spoon some of the shredded chicken filling she had prepared into a crispy taco shell. “Take the compliment.”

She took the spoon after him, filling a shell of her own with chicken, lettuce, cheese and tomato, drizzling salsa sauce on top. Glancing across at Harry, he already had things falling out of his overstuffed taco on the first bite; the both of them held back giggles as their eyes met.

“’s good,” Harry said through his mouthful, and this time Taylor actually laughed. He grinned, covering his mouth until he finished chewing. “I’m not making a very good impression here, am I?”

“You’re fine,” she promised him, smiling brighter. “Honestly, I’m happy to have you here. I don’t normally have a lot of company.”

“Really?” he asked, lighting up, sitting up a bit straighter. “I would’ve thought you would be, like, asked out all the time,” he assumed, quick to correct himself, “Not that this is like a date, or anything. I know that’s not why you invited me.”

Taylor found herself _not_ minding if this actually was a date.

“Honestly? I haven’t been on a date in a long time,” she told him, her openness making his eyes widen.

“Are you just not interested in dating, or haven’t you met someone that you like like that?”

“I’m… I’d rather wait to find someone that excites me than just hook up with someone I’m not that interested in, you know? I prefer to get to know someone before jumping into anything like that and I guess, um, I haven’t had much of a connection with anyone for a while. It’s not really a big deal to me.”

She shrugged, taking a bite of her food and trying to avoid Harry’s considering stare on her. He always seemed to look at her with an odd intensity, she’d noticed. It was an attention she really wasn’t used to.

“I know we only just met, but for what it’s worth, I think anyone would be really fucking lucky to be with you,” Harry declared, his voice brimming with such sincerity that she was unable to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks.

It wasn’t the only time he flattered her that night. Later, after they’d finished dinner and settled together on the couch in front of the television, Taylor sitting at one end and Harry stretching his leg out on a pillow on the coffee table at the other, she realised that he kept glancing over at her. While her eyes were focused straight ahead on the episode of _Law & Order_ playing on TV, his were down on the sketchbook he’d unpacked, the scratching of his pencil against the drawing paper having become background noise.

“Are you… drawing me?” Taylor asked hesitantly, periodically feeling his stare on her. When he turned her head to him, she found him smiling guiltily.

“You’re beautiful,” was his simple explanation, meeting her gaze. “You’ve got beautiful features. Especially your eyes. And your lips. Your lips are a lovely shape.”

“Thanks for saying that,” she smiled, which only seemed to emphasise his point. She appreciated his specifics.

“Have you ever thought about modelling?” he wondered, looking back down at his paper and continuing to draw.

“Not really, no. I’m not really coordinated enough for all that posing and everything.”

“I think you’d make a great model,” he proclaimed, smiling back up at her as if he himself didn’t look like he could be in the pages of a magazine. “Maybe you could sit for me sometime? If you wouldn’t mind? I wouldn’t make you do anything hard.”

“I don’t know if I’d be any good at it,” she admitted honestly, kind of surprised that he would be inspired to draw _her_. “Can I see what you’re doing now?”

“Sure.”

Handing over his sketchbook, Harry watched her face carefully for her reaction as soon as she laid eyes on his incomplete drawing.

“Holy shit,” Taylor gaped, blushing at her exclamation as she snuck a glance over at him. “I mean, wow. You’re _really_ good.”

While it wasn’t finished, the likeness he had captured in her profile was astounding. How anyone could pull off a side-on portrait without it turning out disproportionate and unflattering was a mystery, but it was one Harry had clearly solved. The practice he had in drawing people was obvious, not to mention the talent he had in the first place.

“I like doing people in charcoal better,” he told her, running his hand through the top of his hair. “’s good for blending shadows and stuff. Just gets a bit messy.”

“I’d love to see more,” she said, though she passed his book back, letting him finish what he was working on before he decided what else, if anything, he wanted to show her.

“I think I’m going to have more than enough inspiration here,” he guessed, a statement that neither of them quite realised how true that was going to be.

Taylor loved his sketch once he showed her again, happily listened to him tell her about some of the other drawings he had in that book. She didn’t really know anyone who was interested in this kind of art, and his passion exuded clearly in his voice. She found that she liked listening to him, actually. He had a slow voice that was a soothing low tone, one she could easily listen to for hours. His English accent was quite appealing, too.

Since she was scheduled for work the next morning, Taylor called it a night at a reasonable time. She followed her usual routine, making sure Harry was alright when he went to brush his teeth and settle on the makeshift bed set up behind the sofa, a metre or so between him and the bookshelf up against the white wall. Having changed into his pyjamas of a soft t-shirt and shorts, he looked young as he sat up and got his cast as comfortable as he could manage to.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright out here?” Taylor checked with him, kneeling down beside the mattress. She had changed too, only she had wisely opted to sleep in one of her gentler bralettes for a change. Giving him an eyeful of her chest through her sleep shirt wasn’t exactly favourable, especially on the first night.

“Yeah, I’ll be good,” Harry nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. He probably wasn’t going to be all that comfortable, but he had no intention of complaining.

“Just call out if you need anything, okay?”

“I think I’ll be fine, but thank you.” Licking his lips, he took on a sudden air of shyness. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for me, Taylor. I’ve never met a stranger that’s been so kind just because they can be.”

A glassiness glossed his green eyes, and Taylor hugged him without a second thought. She took care as she wrapped her arms around him, not wanting to cause him any pain, and Harry sighed as his encircled her small waist, burying his face in her loose blonde hair. What Harry had been missing since the accident was a hug from someone who cared, and Taylor’s affection had tears suddenly welling in his eyes. As soon as she realised he was crying, she shifted closer, soothingly rubbing his back. He hadn’t let out his emotion until now, and she longed for him to be able to be with his family right now. After something so awful, seeing his mum was exactly what he needed.

Taylor was determined to take care of him as best as she could.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled when he eventually pulled away, pressing the heels of his hands to his watery eyes. His cheeks were burning, his embarrassment obvious. “’m not normally like this.”

“It’s okay,” she spoke gently, stroking her hand over his hair. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, it’s just…”

“I understand.”

She was the only one who did. Of course, she didn’t know exactly how he was feeling, but having been right there when his world turned upside down, she was closer to the truth than anyone else.

Sighing again, Harry furiously wiped at his face. “I just need some sleep,” he said, convincing neither of them that that would make everything better.

Still, Taylor got a couple tissues for him and gave him another hug before saying goodnight, hoping with all of her heart as she laid in her bed that he was truly going to be okay.

 

*** * * * ***

 

It was pitch black when Taylor was startled awake. The crashing noise was not a familiar sound (the cats weren’t normally _too_ bad with causing chaos during the night) and it took her a minute to register that she wasn’t in the midst of being burgled by some maniac that had busted into her apartment, but rather she had let a still potentially psychotic man in on her own free will.

When her heart stopped racing, Taylor fumbled in the dark to grab her glasses off the nightstand before getting up to investigate the source of her disturbance.

There was a shadowy figure standing by the kitchen sink, and she ended up scaring him as much as he scared her when she suddenly flicked on a light.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry immediately apologised. He was leaning against the counter, one of the crutches he had used to hobble his way over lying on the floor beside him. So _that’s_ what the noise was.

“Are you okay?” she asked sleepily, crossing over to him on socked feet.

“Yeah, just slipped before I could catch it,” he said as Taylor bent over to retrieve the crutch off the floor for him. “’m really sorry. Was trying to be quiet. Just couldn’t sleep and wanted some water.”

“How were you planning on carrying it back to bed?” she asked, and as he glanced between the empty glass on the bench and where he was set up across the room, it was clear he hadn’t thought his plan through.

“’m sorry,” Harry mumbled instead.

“Are you in pain?” she then said, changing the subject for him. “Did the doctor give you anything to help you sleep?”

“’s not that, really.” Reaching for the glass, he filled it up with water from the tap and took a careful sip. “’s just, um, dreams, about… you know…”

Oh, Taylor knew. It had taken her ages to fall asleep, much to her frustration, and when she finally had, she wasn’t completely content. It was hardly surprising to her that the loud sound he’d unintentionally made had easily drawn her out of her restless sleep.

“Do you want to come in with me?” Taylor asked, by now having accepted that her offers to him were quite obviously insane. She couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“I can’t intrude more than I already am,” Harry was quick to politely turn her down.

“One night isn’t going to hurt either of us,” she reasoned, and when she ran her hand slowly through his messy hair, she had no idea that that was all it took to sway him.

“Are you sure?”

“You’ll be more comfortable in my room, I promise,” she gently assured him, holding her hand out to take his glass from him.

“But… will _you_ be comfortable with me there?” he asked, looking so positively adorable with his tired eyes and concerned little frown that it took everything in her not to throw her arms around him and kiss him all over his cute face.

“Didn’t we already establish that you’re not out to kill me?”

She got a small smile for that one, and she was happier than she should’ve been as she carried his water for him and scooped up his pillow on the way back to her bedroom.

With a bedside light on, Harry managed to get settled, leaving the crutches lying on the floor for the morning. He _was_ more comfortable on the mattress of her queen bed, but he was still unlikely to fall right to sleep.

As Taylor laid on her side facing him, a safe distance apart, she watched his silhouette as best she could when her room was plunged back into darkness and her glasses were returned to their spot on the table. She could make out the steady rise and fall of his chest; she struggled with detail when he turned his head to her.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “It was so… lonely in hospital. Like, there were people around, but nobody really… Nothing felt personal.”

“You’ve got me now,” Taylor softly made sure he knew, bringing a smile to his gentle lips.

“My angel,” he murmured fondly, his hand slipping out from under the blanket to brush her hair away from her face. His vision was clearly better than hers, but that was hardly an unfamiliar feeling after having worn contacts ever since she was a teen.

And now, going on twenty-five, she was lying in bed with a boy who was only freshly out of his teenage years. He couldn’t even legally drink in this country. But with his attention on her, Taylor couldn’t find it in her to care.

“I wasn’t joking, you know,” Harry said, his hand dropping back at his side. Immediately she wanted him to find an excuse to touch her again. “When I woke up in there, I thought you were an angel. Everything was white and you were in that white dress and… yeah.”

“You’re really sweet,” Taylor sighed lightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“’m so glad I met you,” he returned honestly. “You’re amazing, Taylor. Angel Taylor.”

When she next drifted off, it was to the much kinder thought of how lovely it was to hear her name spoken in such a warm tone in a British accent.


	2. Chapter Two

“Okay, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why you have that secret little smile on your face.”

That only made Taylor’s smile grow. She kept her eyes ahead on the road, feeling her friend’s gaze on her from the passenger seat of her car. They had been driving for five minutes, yet she hadn’t been the one doing most of the talking.

“There’s this guy,” Taylor finally revealed, and Selena swivelled around in her seat so fast she could’ve given herself whiplash with that kind of flick of her head.

“Taylor!” Selena squealed in endearing excitement. “Details!”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she believed, flicking on her indicator when they reached a set of traffic lights. It was Sunday morning, and the girls were on their way to their routine yoga session. Almost every week for the past year they had attended the mid-morning class at a nearby wellness centre, and every week it turned into a gossip session.

“We won’t know for sure until you tell me.”

“His name’s Harry,” Taylor said, smiling at the very thought of him. “He’s British.”

“Is he cute?”

“He’s _really_ cute. Like, the kind of cute I wouldn’t expect to pay any attention to me.”

Selena slapped her on the arm, and Taylor knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth.

“Stop putting yourself down! Has he asked you out yet?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Taylor continued with hesitance, pausing a moment as she focused on pulling into an empty parking space without hitting any other cars. Once they were safely stopped, she dropped the bomb. “He’s actually living with me.”

_“What?!”_

It was rare for her to be talking about a guy she seemed to have an interest in (not that she was going to be admitting to any kind of feelings for Harry), but her talking about a guy staying with her? That was completely unheard of.

“How did you _meet_ him?” Selena asked her, her dark eyes blown understandably wide. She was Taylor’s closest friend here, and she couldn’t believe she was just learning this major development _now_.

“That’s… that’s actually a really shit story,” Taylor replied, un-buckling and reaching into the back to grab her bag off the floor. “Tuesday night–”

_“Tuesday?”_ Selena repeated incredulously – over how soon it was that she had gotten involved with Harry, or how long it had taken her to open up to her about it, Taylor couldn’t tell.

“He was in an accident. I was walking home and happened to be there at the time. He was in hospital for a couple days and now he’s staying with me.”

Her explanation was basic, provided more questions than answers, and as they climbed out of the car and started heading to the building they knew well, they both knew there wasn’t going to be enough time to give the clarification that was desperately needed to explain why Taylor would suddenly act so impulsively out of character over a boy.

“What happened? Is he okay?” Selena quickly questioned.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s got a broken leg and bruised ribs, but he’ll be fine in a couple weeks. It could’ve been worse.”

“Why is he staying with _you?”_

“Because there isn’t an elevator in his apartment so he can’t, like, _get_ to his apartment. But there’s one in mine.”

“You were right: you _are_ crazy,” Selena concluded with a shake of her head, though there was no malice in her voice. She was more confused than anything else.

Their conversation was put on hold as they entered the centre and sauntered side by side to the yoga room. Talking was generally frowned upon once inside, and all through the session, Selena was forced to try to relax despite the fact her best friend posing on the mat beside her had likely lost her mind.

Taylor found yoga classes more enjoyable with someone she knew there with her. She wasn’t incredibly coordinated, but she had certainly improved on that and her flexibility ever since they had started attending. They sometimes went to one-off dance classes together when they were both available, as well. It felt good discovering what her body could actually do when she gave it a go. Yoga usually helped clear her mind, too.

She even managed to stop thinking about Harry for a while, which was a significant step considering her brain had basically been nonstop _Harry Harry Harry_ ever since Tuesday night.

Harry had only just woken up not long before she left. He’d tried sleeping out on the inflatable mattress again, and unbeknownst to Taylor, he had spent the night drifting in and out of restless sleep. He’d offered her a soft smile when she wished him good morning, though, and he’d gladly accepted the cup of tea she went out of her way to make for him.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that weird to have him around. It was actually kind of nice, which was a great relief to Taylor’s bumbling uncertainty.

After an hour of peaceful stretching, the girls got a healthy lunch from a nearby café that was used to seeing them in their tank tops and workout leggings. It was then that Taylor properly explained the events of the last few days, relieved that her audience wasn’t judgmental. Selena, a couple years younger, was thoughtful, smarter than a lot of people assumed. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and ever since they had met at a party of one of Taylor’s new co-workers not long after she moved to the city, she had been a constant support for Taylor. Taylor didn’t know what she would with without the girl sitting across from her.

“You’ve just got to be careful, babe,” Selena advised her as she took a much-needed sip of water after a lengthy description of all things Harry so far. “You’re right, he doesn’t sound like a bad guy, but you’re not really going to know for sure until you get to know him better.”

“I just _feel_ like he’s different,” Taylor countered, cringing at her own cliché words. “I mean, I feel like if he was trying to take advantage of me, it would be obvious. But it’s like it makes him kind of uncomfortable to accept my help – not because of a pride thing, but ‘cause we’re practically strangers.”

“He hasn’t tried to come onto you?”

“No. We’ve hugged a couple times, but that’s about it. He doesn’t look at me suggestively or anything like that. He’s complimented me, but I think he genuinely just wants to be friends.”

Tightening her dark ponytail, Selena considered this. “Well,” she said, a smile starting to tease at her lips. “Since he’s got you all starry eyed, I guess I’m going to have to meet this boy. Should I bring a ‘get well’ card?”

Taylor put her head in her hands, trying to mask the smile on her face. She wasn’t starry eyed, she was… Okay, maybe she was a _little_ starry eyed. But she was entitled to some fun, wasn’t she?

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

Fun wasn’t exactly how Harry would describe their Monday night.

“This is so embarrassing,” he muttered as he sat on a chair placed in the shower cubicle, wearing nothing but his underwear as Taylor helped stick a garbage bag over his cast with the strongest tape she had. He’d been putting it off, but his hair desperately needed a wash, so he was forced to endure the awkwardness that came with making sure his cast didn’t get wet.

“I can’t imagine why you’d say something like that,” Taylor replied dryly, reaching underneath his bare thigh to secure some more tape on. It had Harry laughing (as much as it hurt, he couldn’t seem to stop himself when talking with her) and she grinned up at him from where she was crouched down in front of him.

“I look like some weird rubbish monster.”

“The tattoos don’t help your case,” she said, giving him a cheeky poke right in the centre of the butterfly on his torso. She had only seen the ones on his arms, had been surprised when he pulled his shirt off to reveal a couple more she hadn’t been expecting.

“D’you like them?” Harry asked hopefully, another thing she hadn’t been anticipating.

“I really like the swallows,” Taylor told him, barely having to think about it. As soon as she saw the birds in flight on his chest, she had had to stop herself from staring too long. The entire time he had been sitting there in nothing but a tight pair of boxers, she had had to stop herself from staring, busied herself with the task at hand rather than the sight of his exposed (and really rather attractive) body.

“They’re all interesting,” she went on. “I can really tell you’re into art. You _look_ like a living artwork.”

_Like some damn sculpture of an ancient god, only with floppier hair._

“Thanks,” Harry gave her a dimpled grin, which only seemed to prove her point. That smile looked like it had been specially crafted to make anyone within fifty feet swoon. “Do you have any?”

“Tattoos? God no,” she quickly shook her head. “My parents really aren’t fans of them; I can’t imagine what they’d say. Plus, I wouldn’t even know what to get.”

“My name, right here,” he playfully suggested, running his finger along his underwear line on his inner thigh. Taylor scoffed a laugh, which brightened his smile to dazzling.

“You’d have to get my name in return, y’know?”

“Oh, definitely. Maybe I’ll even get you to write it in your handwriting so it’s all the more personal.”

“Look at you, Mr Sentimental,” Taylor teased with a friendly smile. Over the few days he had been around, she had discovered their shared sense of humour and found that messing around a little with him was really quite easy. There wasn’t an uncomfortable weirdness, thank god – though they both had to admit, it was kind of odd that she was helping him in the bathroom like this when their friendship was only freshly forming.

“I think you’re good to go,” Taylor announced as she stood back up, scissors and roll of tape in hand, looking at his face rather than at the line in his underwear that had become more noticeable ever since she had begun touching him so high up his thigh. “Be careful you don’t rub any shampoo into your cut, okay?”

“Okay, mum,” he cheekily replied, and she rolled her eyes.

“Leave the door unlocked. Call out if you need anything, okay?”

Refraining from making an inappropriate joke too soon, Harry just nodded up at her, still smiling.

Taylor returned to the lounge after shutting the bathroom door behind her, soon hearing the sound of running water. She settled back in front of the television with her phone beside her, trying her best to ignore the fact that there was a very cute boy currently showering in her apartment and the mental images the thought conjured up. The Food Network distracted her from the idea of stripping down and jumping in with Harry.

Harry sure took his sweet time in there. His shower was long – whether that was because he hadn’t had one in a week or more to do with having Taylor’s hands on him reminding him of some certain _needs_ , she had no intention of asking. He could do whatever he wanted.

When he finally hopped his way out on his crutches, he had replaced the bag on his leg with grey sweatpants and he had a towel around his shoulders, his dark curls glistening with water droplets. “That feels heaps better,” he grinned, and as Taylor shuffled further down the other end of the couch so he could get himself comfortable, she ignored every one of her senses that was groaning over such a tempting sight.

“You manage okay?” she asked, her voice a pitch higher than usual. She cleared her throat, frustrated.

“Yeah. Cut stung a bit, but it’s cool.” Shifting onto the couch, propping his leg up on a pillow on the coffee table so there was room for the both of them to sit together, Harry rubbed his wet hair with the towel before looking back towards her. “Um, Taylor? Would I be able to ask you another favour?”

She folded her legs up, aware of how it made her already short shorts ride up a little higher. “What’s up?”

“There’s this art class I normally go to on Tuesday nights… Would you be able to take me? It’s not that far from here. And I’ll be able to get a ride home, so you won’t have to go out of your way to pick me up again.”

“Sure,” she smiled easily; it wasn’t like she had any plans, anyway. She rarely had many plans, especially on weeknights.

“Thanks,” Harry sighed in relief, glad he wouldn’t have to give up all of his normal routine over his broken leg. “You’re the best, Taylor.”

The best because she agreed to drive him someplace? Well, he was easy to please. She could get used to that.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

When Taylor got home from work the next day, she found Harry set up on the floor by the window, his small easel standing with a canvas he was working on sitting atop. He was holding a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, a frown between his brows as all of his concentration was on the work in front of him. A box of paints sat beside him, a couple of tubes left on the floorboards, and he suddenly looked so at home there in amongst all of Taylor’s lush potted plants, like he _belonged_.

“Hey. I picked up some dinner–”

“No looking!” Harry cried, breaking out of his creative zone as she swept into the room. “’m not done.”

“Okay,” she said, raising her free hand in surrender. She set the take-out bag she’d collected on the way home from closing up the shop down on the kitchen bench, watching him with curiosity. “I’ve got dinner, though, so do you want to take a break, or do you want to keep painting?”

“If I put this facing the wall, do you promise not to look until I’ve finished?” he asked her seriously – surely he had to know that that only piqued her interest even more.

Still, she nodded genuinely. “I swear on my life I won’t look until you want me too.”

“Good,” Harry smiled, pleased as he put his things down on the floor, always careful not to spill anything. “What did you get?”

“Some Chinese.”

“Yum.”

While Harry scooted over to sit on the rug the coffee table sat on, getting himself comfortable with the pillow under his foot, Taylor grabbed a couple bowls and poured the contents of the plastic take-out containers inside, making their easy meal look more impressive. She set them out on the coffee table, as well as glasses of Diet Coke for the both of them, and she settled on the floor near him as they lazed in front of the TV. It was more like Taylor’s regular meals on her own than the civilised sit-downs at the dining table were, but he was just as familiar with the feeling.

“D’you have a nice day today?” Harry asked her before crunching into a prawn cracker. His fingertips were dotted with light paint strokes, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“We had a bridezilla,” Taylor said, spooning some fried rice into her own bowl. When she glanced over at Harry, he had his brow raised, smirking slightly.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about a valued customer, Taylor.”

“I started to think she was going to throw a vase at my head just because she wanted frangipanis and I dared to suggest pairing with orchids,” she recalled with a shake of his head. She understood planning a wedding was stressful, but was getting worked up over every little detail being perfect necessary? She liked to think that when her big day eventually came around, she would be able to cope with not everything turning out exactly like she pictured in her head without throwing hissy fits at unprepared shop assistants.

“Wouldn’t they look nice together?” Harry thought.

“They do! I did up this gorgeous bouquet for her, but she still wasn’t happy. I think she needs a good glass of wine to chill out.”

Laughing, Harry reached over to claim one of the mini spring rolls. “D’you get a lot of people like that?”

“Sometimes, yeah. We mainly just sell stuff in the store, but we do get a couple of special occasion orders every week.”

“D’you know what you’d like to have for your own wedding one day?”

“Roses,” Taylor immediately replied, needing not a second to debate what she had long ago decided on. “I know it’s totally cliché, but I’d love white roses. Blanc Double de Couberts, or maybe Maiden’s Blushes, or Icebergs. I’d love to grow them all myself one day. And some pink Blushes, Ballerinas, and Blazes. Some Angel Faces would be nice, too.”

“Angel Faces, eh?” Harry smirked at her, and god, did he really have to have that damn dimple? It was driving her crazy and it had only been a week.

“Yes,” she said, looking down at her food rather than his cute fucking face. With his clean hair falling in fluffy curls around his face, it was harder than usual to ignore his genetically blessed features.

“They’re all roses?”

“Mhm. There are actually hundreds of different rose types that vary in size and petal shape. I’ve got pictures in some of my books, if you want to take a look sometime.”

“I will.”

Taylor actually had no idea what he got up to while she was out. As of yet, she had only found him immersed in drawing or something on TV, which was probably a good thing.

“Do you go to garden shows and stuff like that?”

“When I can, yeah. I actually went to Japan last year for the cherry blossom season; I’d been dying to go for so long, it was like a dream come true.”

“No fucking way. I bet that was amazing.”

“It was,” Taylor beamed at the fond memory. “It was so beautiful. I’d never been anywhere like it before – I’d love to go again someday. The atmosphere was just so, so beautiful. I was at a loss for words the whole time I was there.”

“Have you got some pictures you can show me later? I’d love to paint the trees, if you wouldn’t mind letting me work from one of your photos?”

“Of course. You’re more than welcome to take inspiration from wherever you can find it.”

“You’ve got plenty for me to work with here,” he grinned.

Over the few days that he had been staying with her, Harry had started his quest to sketch each of the plants decorating her apartment. While most made it into a sketchbook, he had drawn an elaborate floral design all over his cast in black marker, rather impressive considering he was reaching over to do it on himself. While he’d been painting today, he had added in some strokes of colour; it was likely to progress over the weeks he was stuck with it covering his leg.

Once they were stuffed with their array of dishes, they cracked open the fortune cookies Taylor always insisted on buying for the fun of the messages inside; she wasn’t particularly fond of the taste. She opened hers first, Harry watching her intently as she unfolded the little strip of paper.

_“‘Great treasure can be found within,’”_ she read aloud, holding each end tight. Just like with every fortune or horoscope she read, the cynical side of her rolled its eyes. She could still never stop herself from indulging in them, though, if even for a moment.

Harry cracked his own open, cookie crumbs falling on the table as he straightened his paper. His eyes scanned over the writing and a grin spread across his face, completely genuine. _“‘Within the unexpected, comes great possibility,’”_ he recited, his eyes shining as they met Taylor’s. They were sure in the midst of the unexpected, and the possibilities? Well, they weren’t looking too bad from where they were sitting.

While Taylor cleared up their dinner dishes, Harry got himself ready for his art class. He checked that he looked presentable and that he had his charcoal all set to go in its box, his pencil case and sketchbook resting on his lap as he sat in his wheelchair.

“Does my hair look okay at the back?” he checked with her before they left, and Taylor gently raked her fingers through his hair to help hide the red wound that was beginning to heal on the back of his head.

“You’re good.”

“Thank you.”

He tilted his head up at her and smiled – that damn smile – and Taylor pretended that her heart hadn’t started beating faster.

Harry gave her directions from the backseat of her car, eager to be getting out again. He clutched his things in his hands, alternating between watching Taylor driving and gazing out the window.

“You can come in, if you want,” he offered thoughtfully. “It’s just, like, more of a social thing than a proper class. It’s fun; you’d definitely be welcome.”

“Thanks, but I’m not very good at drawing.”

“You don’t have to be. A lot of the people that come aren’t really artists, they just like drawing in their free time. Not everyone’s, like, amazing at it.”

“Not like you,” she smiled, and when she glanced in her mirror, she swore she saw him blushing. “What kind of things do you draw there?”

“It’s a life drawing class.”

_That_ she hadn’t been expecting.

“Like… naked people?”

“Yeah,” he laughed lightly. “It’s actually not as uncomfortable as you’d think. It’s pretty relaxed, really. I’ve done it a couple times, ‘s not scary. The attention’s actually kind of nice.”

“Wait, you’ve posed _naked_ in front of a room full of people?” she asked, making sure that she was hearing him correctly.

“Well, when a model doesn’t show up, _someone’s_ got to volunteer,” Harry grinned like it was the easiest thing in the world, just stripping down and letting people he hardly knew analyse every inch of him. Then again, when he looked like _that_ , maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.

When they arrived at the building Harry guided them to, Taylor parked as close as she could and climbed out to help him out too. He struggled a bit, but managed to get out without any drama.

“You sure you don’t want to come in with me?” he asked again as they lingered outside the studio. There were thick curtains covering the windows, strips of light seeping around the edges signs of life inside.

“I think I’ll just leave you to it.”

“We’re always looking for new models, you know?” he added, and she couldn’t help the roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m _really_ gonna pass on that one.”

“Maybe another time,” Harry smiled at her. Yeah, right. Like _that_ was ever gonna happen.

“Let me know if you can’t get a ride home, okay? I’ll come pick you up.”

“I’ll be alright, but thanks.”

“Have fun, Harry.”

“Later, Taylor.”

The entire ride home, Taylor couldn’t stop thinking about Harry posing naked, and it was a wonder that she didn’t end up in a car accident of her own.

The silence that filled her apartment when she returned was oddly stark. It was like something was missing, which was crazy – Harry had been there only a matter of days, he couldn’t possibly have had that much of an effect on the atmosphere already.

Except, when she looked around at his things scattered over the main room, she realised he had.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. She wasn’t hating having him around, which was a really freaking huge relief. Harry was friendly and considerate of her place and her feelings, and he was handsome. So fucking handsome.

Not that she cared. She wasn’t interested. Not at all.

Which was exactly why she found herself standing in front of the mirror on the back of her closet door to see whether Harry was completely and utterly insane for ever suggesting she could pull off being a model.

Taylor didn’t consider herself bad looking, exactly – she was tall and thin, was lucky enough to have clear skin and straight teeth and nice features. She liked her yoga-toned legs, and her boobs were a good size. She just didn’t think she was all that spectacular, not the kind of beauty that made people stop in the street to admire. Not the kind that people remembered. Certainly not the kind that _inspired_ anyone.

As she took off her dress to see how she looked in her mismatched underwear, Taylor twisted to get a better look at herself on different angles. On her bed, Meredith was watching her with a bored expression that said it all: Harry was nuts, and so was she for indulging in the idea that maybe he wasn’t.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, gazing back at her reflection. She grabbed her chest, squishing her breasts together to give herself more impressive cleavage. “See, this – _this_ is more like it. He’d _definitely_ like me like this.”

Whether he would like her if he knew she talked to her cats when she was alone was a whole different matter.

Switching on some music, Taylor played around with her look for a while – for fun, not because she seriously cared how Harry viewed her appearance. No, she definitely wasn’t thinking of him when she put on her favourite black push up bra that made her boobs look amazing, nor when she slipped into the red lingerie that laced up at the back and had driven her last boyfriend crazy. The look on his face when he first saw her in it was still stuck in her mind, and as she sat on the floor in what she hoped was a seductive manner, she definitely did not wonder what Harry might think instead. Nor did she at all wonder what turned him on, or how easily she could make him come.

Oh god, she was totally thinking about fucking her roommate.

To be fair, she hadn’t gotten laid in a long time, and she _was_ sitting in her best lingerie and running her hands over her thighs and chest. Of course she was turned on.

When she flopped down on her bed, Meredith abandoned ship, jumping off the edge and bounding into the lounge. Probably for the best, since Taylor didn’t particularly want an audience as she slipped off her underwear and let her hand roam between her legs.

While she normally kept quiet about her sexual endeavours (when she actually _had_ them), she felt free when she was alone. She enjoyed exploring herself and she didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. She was a young woman who wasn’t going to wait around for someone to come along (although, she wouldn’t mind having a head between her legs and something bigger than her fingers inside of her again sometimes). She was (mostly) happy on her own.

Taylor felt lighter when she decided to run a bath, picking her things up off her bedroom floor and putting them back in their safe spots while she waited. She poured a glass of wine, brought her speakers into the bathroom with her and switched to a calmer playlist, and found a bath bomb to drop in to turn the water an aesthetic pink she couldn’t get enough of. She might’ve touched herself a little more too, but that was nobody’s business.

Taylor’s bath wasn’t all that big, but she loved it. It wasn’t a feature she had been expecting when apartment hunting – especially not a stand-alone tub that was separate from the shower cubicle up against the opposing wall. She didn’t use it often, but every now and then it was nice to relax all on her own.

It was easy to lose track of time in there, especially when she treated herself to the whole candlelit ambience. With her eyes closed and her body immersed in warm water, legs too long to be completely submerged, Taylor attempted to meditate – even if meditation didn’t typically include a glass of red wine in one hand. Freeing her mind was really the idea, and it worked. She completely zoned out, barely even paying attention to the music she had playing anymore. She only snapped back to reality at the sound of buzzing, which was her phone on the counter and not a freakishly oversized bee she had (embarrassingly) first thought it was.

Pink water sloshing around her as she sat up, Taylor reached over as best she could and answered without reading the screen first.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to let me in or am I sleeping in the hall tonight?”

Harry. Shit.

“I’ll be right there.”

She hung up to the sound of his giggles, hurriedly climbing out the bath and wrapping herself up in a towel. Surely she hadn’t truly wasted the two hours his class went for already. Shit, how long had he been waiting for her?

Dripping all over the floor as she went to answer the door, keeping a firm hold on the deep red towel fixed around her body, Taylor quite clearly surprised Harry as she opened up, his brows shooting up towards his hairline as his eyes travelled up her legs to her face.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“’s okay,” he replied slowly, taking her in. “I, um, wasn’t waiting long. Just knocked a few times.”

“I’ve got music on, sorry.”

“’s cool.”

As she stepped inside to let him in, Taylor had no idea that Harry was cursing in his mind that he had a stupid fucking cast that prevented him from hopping in the water with her.

“How was your class?” she asked conversationally, as if she wasn’t standing there completely naked underneath her towel.

“Was good, yeah,” Harry nodded, sounding distracted. He wasn’t even _looking_ at her anymore, his wheelchair facing towards the windows so his back was to her. “Did you, um. What did you get up to?”

“I was just taking a bath.”

“Oh. Um, you can get back to it, if you want. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” Hesitating, she shifted her weight to her opposite leg. “I’m gonna… change.”

“Okay.”

When she scurried into her room, she missed the way Harry craned his neck to get a good view of her legs peeking out from under her towel and how he bit down on his bottom lip, smirking slightly.

Only taking a moment to pull on her pyjamas, Taylor ducked back into the bathroom to finish up. She unplugged the bath and let the water drain, turned off her music and blew out the candles, returning her speakers to her bedroom and refilling her wine glass on the way to join Harry on the couch.

“Did you want some?” she offered, raising her glass as she paused in the kitchen. While he couldn’t buy anything here, he was legal in his home country, and she doubted he’d never had a drop before.

Still, he shook his head. “Probably shouldn’t.”

“If you want anything, just let me know what you like, okay?”

“Why, wanna get drunk with me?” he grinned, seeming more relaxed now he was settled in his spot on the sofa. “I probably shouldn’t mix with painkillers.”

“How are you feeling? Does your leg hurt much?”

“Nah, ‘s mostly my ribs that hurt. You keep making me laugh.” Harry poked her arm playfully when she sat down beside him, making her smile. “’s good, though. I can’t complain.”

He had a pretty good reason to complain; his optimistic attitude was commendable.

“Can I see what you worked on in class?”

Nodding, Harry picked up his sketchbook and flicked to the most recent pages. Taylor shuffled closer, resting her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to have a look at the pencil sketches he had done. He pulled out a few loose sheets of paper too, charcoal drawings on them that had been sprayed with fixative to help prevent smudging. He was… well, he was really freaking good. His drawings weren’t overly detailed, but he captured shape remarkably. She didn’t need to see the model he had worked with to know that.

“She kept moving,” he commented quietly. “Not a lot, but it’s harder when models can’t stay still.”

“These are amazing,” Taylor complimented truthfully.

“They’re not _that_ good…”

“Look at this one.” She held up one piece of paper with what she thought was his best. “You’ve captured her figure beautifully. She looks like a goddess.”

She wasn’t wrong: the woman that had been the star of this week’s session was curvy in all the right places, with a long tumble of dark waves down her bare back. Harry had been sitting on a 45-degree angle to her, a perfect position to draw her wonderfully.

“It’s not _perfect_.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not amazing.”

When she glanced at him, she found Harry’s cheeks had turned pink, a shy little smile on his lips. Taylor ran her fingers gently through his hair and it gave him another rush.

“You smell really nice,” he admired quickly, and she had to laugh.

“I think it’s the bath bomb I used. It’s meant to smell like cherry blossoms.”

“It’s pretty,” he smiled, glancing between her and the pages in front of him. “Suits you.”

All of a sudden, Taylor wanted to kiss him, and she had to refrain from leaning in and ruining everything. She really didn’t want to make things weird between them, not when they were getting along so well. Their arrangement was unusual enough as it was without involving those kinds of feelings.

“Can I draw you?” Harry requested again. “Please? You don’t have to take your clothes off or anything.”

“I’m not really dressed for it.”

“You look perfect,” he was quick to counter, face flushing again. In her loose t-shirt and short floral pyjama pants, her hair in wet curls that were destined to dry wild if she didn’t tend to them, she looked far from perfect, but Harry didn’t look like he was lying just to convince her to say yes. He looked like he seriously, genuinely meant it.

“What would you want me to do?” Taylor wondered, and he perked up as he realised she was giving him a yes.

“Just– you can sit right there,” he said, gesturing to the other end of the couch. “You don’t have to do anything much. Just look natural.”

She shuffled away from him, feeling an unexpected pang at the loss of contact, and got herself comfortable at the end, twisting towards him with her legs curled up. She took a sip from her glass and leaned against the back of the couch, watching as he turned to a blank page and reached for his charcoal sticks.

“Is this okay?”

As Harry returned his eyes to her, he tilted his head in consideration. He carefully angled her own head with a careful touch, guiding her to rest her head on the arm propped up on the back of the couch. He gently fixed the way her hair fell and he smiled at her. “Perfect.”

It was still as Harry got to work. He was right earlier: even with her clothes on, Taylor _was_ finding the attention nice. Harry generally seemed pretty relaxed, but as he looked at her now, he had such a quiet focus about him, in a deep concentration that furrowed his brow. He looked at her, really _looked_ at her, and yet she didn’t feel reduced to a mere object. She felt… important. Like she actually mattered.

“You’re good at this,” Harry observed softly, smiling up from his page that she had barely even taken a peek at. She was too busy watching _him_. “You can still have your drink, you know? And wiggle your toes every so often so you still get blood flowing okay.”

“You’re still doing that with your own, right?” Taylor checked as she took another careful sip of wine, trying not to move too much out of her position. Harry purposely wiggled his toes on the foot that peeked out of his cast just as the doctor had suggested, and the both of them giggled.

While Harry studied her, Taylor did some studying of her own. Despite his efforts to tuck his hair behind his ear, it always seemed to slip free and dangle by his face as he looked down at the book in his lap. His hair fell in tousled curls, was getting long almost as if he had completely forgotten about cutting it, too immersed in his own imagination. She liked it that way, actually. She wanted to run her fingers all through it; she knew it was soft from his recent wash.

He had nice hands. His fingers were long and dusted with charcoal, remnants of paint stuck around and under his fingernails – a usual look for him. He was steady and precise, always seemed to know exactly what he was doing. She wondered what it might be like to have his hands wandering over her body, whether he would take the same care as he was now.

Every now and then, he would bite down on his bottom lip in his concentration. While he said she had nicely shaped lips, the same could be said of him. His were a soft pink, looked as if they could give the sweetest kisses. She wanted to sink her own teeth into the soft flesh and find out if kissing him was as fun as it sounded.

She certainly hoped her thoughts weren’t emblazoned across her forehead for him to plainly see whenever he gazed at her so intently.

It took a while for Harry to be happy with his drawing. Taylor’s neck was hurting from leaning her head over for so long, but she didn’t want to complain. She still stretched now and then as she sipped at the wine she had in her hand, which was rest enough.

Harry deliberated over the page in front of him for a moment or so after he put his thinner stick of charcoal down for the last time. Finally, he wordlessly passed his sketchbook over to her.

It was one thing to see the time and effort he put into drawing someone else, but to see a portrait of herself? Taylor was in awe.

“Where did you learn to draw like this?” she asked breathlessly as she stared down at the portrait that very much looked like her, captured in precise lines and soft shading.

“Um, well, I did art in school, but I practiced a lot on my own,” he shrugged, rubbing his charcoal-covered thumb and forefinger together. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she answered without hesitation, her blue eyes exuding sincerity when they flicked up to find his again.

“Thank you for sitting for me,” he smiled at her gently. “You’re, um. You’re fun to look at.” Rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, he gave a light laugh at himself. “That sounded really fucking creepy; I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay, I get you,” she smiled back, amused.

“You’re really beautiful, Taylor,” Harry complimented, his tone holding so much truth it made her heart beat harder. “If it’s okay with you, I’d really like to keep working with you.”

Glancing back at the picture he had done of her, she barely had to think about it before she smiled a confident, “Okay.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Welcome home,” Harry grinned warmly when she arrived back from work the next afternoon. He was lying on the couch with his laptop, tilting his head back against the armrest to look at her upside down as she walked through the door, a fresh bunch of flowers in one hand.

“It smells really nice in here,” Taylor commented as she left her handbag on the dining table routinely.

“I made scones,” he announced proudly. “I saved some for you. I put them in a container on the bench, I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, of course. Are you getting around okay on your own?”

“Yeah. I think I’ve gotten the hang of it.”

First tending to her fresh flowers, Taylor grabbed the wilting vase off the dining table and replaced it with the new arrangement she had put together before she had finished her shift. She always bought bouquets for herself, adoring bringing some more colour into her apartment; her indoor plants didn’t grow all the gorgeous flowers she loved.

“Did you have a nice day?” Harry asked, still watching her move around behind him.

“It was okay, yeah. The lunch shift is usually pretty easy.”

Once she had sorted herself out, Taylor took one of the scones out of the clear plastic container, cutting it in half and buttering the inside. She added some strawberry jam, scraping out what was left in the jar and taking a happy bite; a freshly made afternoon snack was always nice, especially after a few hours of work. “Mm, these are good, Harry. Are you sure you used enough butter, though?”

“It’s a proper British scone – doesn’t need mountains of butter. At least you’re eating it right, though,” he beamed teasingly, sitting up and closing his laptop. “I’ve got something else for you, actually. Come sit down.”

While Harry got himself up and hobbled using one crutch over to the easel he still had facing the wall, Taylor obediently sat down on the couch with curiosity. She wanted to help as she watched him awkwardly walk as best as he could without putting weight on one leg, careful with the canvas he’d picked up, but she resisted. As he’d said, he was capable of getting around by himself.

“It’s still a bit wet, I think, but this is for you.”

As soon as he was close enough, Harry handed over the canvas he hadn’t let her see earlier. He had finished it while she was at work, and as soon as she cautiously held it up upright by the edges, her expression turned to that of utter surprise.

It was a painting – a really fucking great one – of her cats. Meredith and Olivia were lying together in one of their friendly bonding moments, Olivia resting closer to Meredith than the older cat normally appreciated. It was hardly a common occurrence, and Taylor could hardly believe Harry had managed to paint it in such detail and realism.

“How did you…” she began to say, her sentence trailing off as her eyes remained glued to the canvas in her hands.

“I took a picture of them,” he explained as he sat back down beside her. “I noticed them sitting together and I thought it would make a nice painting for you. I just copied it from my phone – even with all the cracks.”

“It’s incredible. Honestly, it’s…”

Taylor couldn’t find words. Nobody had ever done something like this for her before, especially no guy. No guy had ever gone to the effort to make her something like this out of the blue, just because he could. It was touching. Totally heart-warming.

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry spoke quietly when he noticed her eyes had welled up, sliding a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just wanted to do something for you, to say thank you for everything you’re doing for me. I know a painting’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it,” she sighed, leaning into him naturally. “It’s perfect. I’m going to have to find somewhere to hang it.”

“Really? I think, like, only my family have anything of mine hanging.”

“I’m _definitely_ hanging it.”

Carefully setting the canvas down on the coffee table, Taylor shifted to give him an appreciative hug, hoping the tight wrap of her arms around him would convey just how much his gift meant to her. Harry put his other arm around her waist, returning the hug with just as much warmth.

“Thank you so much.”

“Thank _you_ , Tay,” Harry quietly replied, his hand smoothing over her waist. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Of course.”

Neither of them were hurried to let go of each other. Taylor was debating climbing onto his lap and just letting him hold her, but as the slow run of his hand over her back sent a fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, she reluctantly pulled away before she did anything stupid.

“Would you like some tea, love?” he offered, one hand still lingering on the small of her back.

“Yeah, I’ll just–”

“No, you stay here,” he cut in determinedly. “I’ll make it. What good is having an Englishman staying with you if he won’t make you any tea, eh?”

As he tilted her chin up, Harry gave her a teasing wink. He began to make his way over to the kitchen, where he oddly looked at ease despite the awkward cast covering his leg and the short time he had been rooming with her.

“You’re going to have to come carry these mugs over, though, actually,” Harry let her know as he waited for the kettle to boil, smiling over his shoulder.

For the first time, as she gazed back at him, glancing again at the thoughtful painting he had done just for her, Taylor realised there was going to be quite the missing part when he inevitably left.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

“Are you going to name your kids after flowers?”

Taylor looked up from checking the leaves of her hibiscus. Lying on the couch, Harry had one of her thick gardening books clutched in his hands. He was mostly just looking at the pictures rather than taking in the text, but if it kept him occupied, it didn’t particularly matter.

“Well, I don’t plan on having kids anytime soon,” she replied, trying to answer thoughtfully to hide that she had indeed already considered her future family countless times before in her daydreams. “But yeah, it’s a possibility.”

“Rose?” he guessed, smiling as he set the book down on his stomach. “Or Rosie. That’s pretty.”

“I think Rose would make a nice middle name,” Taylor smiled back at him, moving over to perch herself on the edge of the coffee table. She put her little spray bottle down beside her; it was a quiet afternoon and she was doing the rounds of her plants while Harry lounged out.

“What do you like as a first, then?”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Taylor admitted, “I really like Aspen.”

“Aspen Rose,” Harry tested out in a low echo. “That sounds really pretty.”

She really didn’t need his approval, least not when children weren’t even in the cards for her, but she quite liked knowing that he thought her idea was nice.

“I like Iris, too.”

“Ooh, like the Goo Goo Dolls,” he said, and she smiled in amusement; their song really wasn’t what inspired her to the name. “What about, like, Poppy? Or Daisy? Or are they a bit too common?”

“I like Daisy, yeah, but I’d rather something a bit different. Not totally crazy though – I’m not gonna torment my kids with ridiculous names.”

“So it’s a no to Rainbow Daisy Bloom, then?” Harry grinned, making her actually laugh this time.

“That sounds like a My Little Pony.”

“I hope you don’t say that to her face when you meet my future daughter, Rainbow Daisy Bloom Styles.”

He only managed to hold his expression still for mere seconds before bursting into giggles, setting her off again too.

“When Rainbow detests you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Wriggling a little on the spot, he ran his hand through his hair. “What else do you like?”

“Um… I like Sage. Violet, Jasmine, Juniper, Acacia.”

“What happens if you have a boy?” Harry asked, and when she scrunched her lips to the side in deliberation (she _definitely_ wanted a girl), he offered up, “Pine Cone?”

“I’m not naming my son _Pine Cone!_ ” Taylor exclaimed, scoffing at the insane idea. “Why would you even _suggest_ that?!”

He simply shrugged. “What about Oakley? Like, an oak tree? That could be a girl’s or a boy’s name.”

“That’s much more appropriate.”

But was talking about baby names with him like this? It was unexpected, that’s for sure. She didn’t know whether it would be weirder if they were in a relationship or not. It would definitely be too soon if they were. She hadn’t even discussed it with any of her exes, though considering how young they had been and that clearly none of them had been the one, that was probably a good thing.

“I think your kids are going to be very lucky,” Harry told her kindly. “You’re very nurturing. You’re going to make a wonderful mum one day.”

“Thanks for saying that,” Taylor softly replied. Her gaze drifted over to the movement in the kitchen: Meredith going in search of some water, quietly lapping from the silver bowl by the wall. She was a good mother to her cats, at least; she didn’t know what it would really be like to start a proper human family. One day, though, she hoped to find out.

“Little Aspen’s going to be really special,” he added, and Taylor would never, _ever_ admit to imagining Harry’s last name after her current dream baby name.

Instead, she gave him a compassionate smile, tilting her head a little as she looked over his slightly-off face. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just a bit of a headache,” Harry shrugged indifferently, as if it wasn’t bothering him that occasionally they came about more often than they used to, or that she had just proved his point about her caring nature.

“Do you want some aspirin? Or some of your own painkillers?” Taylor immediately offered. “Do you need any more of those? We can go to the pharmacy whenever you need to.”

“I’m fine, Taylor,” he tried to assure her, but she was having none of it. Taylor stood and headed for the kitchen, where she poured him a glass of cold water. She gave Meredith a bit of a pat on her way back over, handing Harry the glass and fetching him something to help alleviate the pain in his head. As much as he thought he could handle it alright, he did appreciate her effort to help; after a few minutes, he did start to feel a bit better.

“Maybe you should try having a nap,” Taylor suggested, gently running her hand over his forehead. “The doctor said naps are good for your concussion, right?”

“Yeah. ‘s probably a good idea.”

Taking her book off him and closing it on the table for if he wanted to continue looking through it later, Taylor went to stand again. Her plants could wait; she’d slip into her bedroom to give him some quiet. Except, he stopped her.

“Taylor?” Harry said, hand tentatively brushing over hers. “Would you…”

As his cheeks pinkened, his sentence was left hanging, and she gazed down at him softly. “Yeah?”

“Never mind,” he murmured, though it didn’t look like that was really what he wanted.

“Get some rest,” Taylor guided, smoothing her hand over the top of his head. His hair felt soft, and he really wouldn’t have minded if she had stayed to stroke it longer like she was tempted to. “Dream of little Rainbow Daisy Bloom,” she playfully added, happy to make him smile again.

“Rainbow and Aspen’ll be best friends,” he vowed, and as Taylor left him to have some peace, she hated the stupid part of her that fantasized Harry – young and temporary Harry – in her future.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“We need to get you out of here.”

Harry looked up from where he was watching _Pretty Woman_ for the second time in a matter of days, a vacant expression on his face. While he didn’t normally have exciting days out all the time, he was used to getting out the house to go to work a couple times a week, or just taking his bike for a ride, and being stuck indoors was already starting to get to him; he’d only been out once since his art class, which was for a short and slightly uncomfortable trip back to the hospital for a follow up appointment. He was enjoying all the free time he had to explore his art, but he liked to have the choice to do whatever he wanted, too.

“It’s a nice day out – do you wanna go for a picnic?” Taylor suggested as she kneeled down by the couch. Olivia was sprawled out across his stomach, giving her a purposeful stare as if to tell her to stop trying to make her cuddle buddy leave. The two had taken a liking to each other ever since Harry arrived and had proven he was always up for offering affection.

“That’d be nice, actually,” he thought, perking up at the idea. “If you don’t have any plans?”

“No, nothing today.”

She had the day off, and as nice as it was to relax inside and not get up to much, spending an afternoon out in the sunshine sounded even better.

“There’s a nice park near here – I can make some sandwiches to take, if that’s alright?”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry smiled at her, careful to reposition Olivia into his arms as he sat up. “D’you want any help?”

“No, it’s okay. You just get ready, I’ll sort the rest out.”

They both needed the day out. While Taylor regularly worked, too often was that _all_ she did. She didn’t have a wide circle of friends here that constantly suggested outings, and having Harry around… well, it was the perfect opportunity to get out and actually _live_ the life she had moved here for.

Making two fresh salad rolls and washing some fruit, grabbing a couple of the chocolate chip cookies she had made over the weekend too, Taylor packed them away in one of her bigger bags. She stowed away two bottles of water as well, making sure to swipe on some sunscreen over the skin that her matching crop top and skirt set left exposed. She gave the tube to Harry after, not wanting him to get burnt in the summer sun either.

Harry changed into a clean t-shirt and shorts, his unofficial uniform ever since the accident. He couldn’t get anything too tight on over his cast, eliminating every pair of jeans he owned as an option. He didn’t even bother with underwear when he lounged around in his sweatpants, Taylor had not so gladly learnt when she naively asked for his things to wash one morning. There was such a thing as too much information, and knowing that Harry often sat around with her without any underwear on was exactly that.

Once they were all set, it didn’t take them long to get to the park. Taylor had walked there plenty of times, but she thought it best just to drive, saving Harry from wheeling himself too far as he insisted on getting around without her assistance.

It was a warm early afternoon, bringing out others free of commitments into the pleasant June day. Harry got a few lingering looks from the people they passed on their way to finding a good place to sit, and Taylor felt an odd sense of protection for him. Who were they to judge him? What had happened was none of their damn business – they could cut it with the _how did he end up like that_ stares.

“Are you gonna get out there okay?” Taylor asked warily when he pointed out a patch of grass for them to sit. He’d been fine rolling across the path, but the grass seemed like trickier terrain.

“I’ve never been off road!” Harry cried in a melodramatic imitation from the kids’ movie he had watched the other day, flashing a bright grin before venturing off the pavement. The grass slowed him down, but with strong pushes of the wheels that showed off the muscles in his arms, he made it along fine.

Taylor found herself smiling as she followed along after him, taking the picnic blanket out from her bag and spreading it out on the spot Harry eventually stopped at.

“This sunshine feels amazing,” Harry sighed happily once he was settled down on the blanket, flopping down onto his back and spreading his arms out either side. He closed his eyes, soaking up the sun that was shining high up above them. “Thanks for this, angel.”

Her heart radiated with the warmth it always did whenever he called her that, and she fussed with taking their lunch out her bag to hide her sweet smile.

“It’s a perfect day for a ride. You know, you should look into getting a little trailer attached to your bike, so I could still sort of ride while I’m like this,” he joked, smiling as he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. In the perfect daylight, he looked even cuter than usual, what had, until now, seemed like an impossible feat.

“No way am I riding a bike with you attached to the back of it. I’m so not fit enough for that.”

“Your legs look pretty fit to me,” Harry countered, giving her thigh a light pat. It was probably just friendly, but Taylor swore there was a hint of flirtatiousness in his eyes.

“It’s just from yoga,” she replied dismissively. “Your arms are going to get a good workout over the next few weeks.”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled up at her while she internally chastised herself for bringing up his muscles, practically giving away that she had been checking out how his biceps flexed with every push of the wheelchair he gave. He didn’t look like he worked out a _lot_ , but he obviously did _something_ in between all his painting. “My leg’s gonna be pretty shit, though. Hope it won’t be too noticeable.”

“You’re gonna have one normal sized leg and the other smaller from not using it for so long,” she commented, and he gave her a playful push.

“That’s not making me _feel_ better,” he laughed, reaching for one of the salad rolls. He popped open the zip lock bag and took an eager bite; he really seemed to like the meals she made for him, which she greatly appreciated. Taylor always loved cooking for other people, and Harry was an enthusiastic diner.

“Maybe I’ll have to take up yoga,” he suggested with a smile after swallowing his mouthful. “It’d be good physio, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she nodded a bit, taking out her own lunch. “How’s your balance?”

“Nowhere near as good as what yours must be. Are you into dancing?”

“I _like_ dancing, but dancing probably wishes I didn’t. I’m not very good.”

“Ahh, well, I’m sparing you from some of _my_ tragic moves since I’m stuck like this.”

“I’ll just have to wait until you’re all better to get you to dance with me,” Taylor smiled, and Harry gave her one of his dimpled grins in return as if she wasn’t already convinced enough that she wanted hanging out with him more to be on her agenda, even after he had no reason to stick around anymore.

She liked to think they would still be friends after all this. And if not… Well, she wasn’t even thinking about that option.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry said, looking up at her curiously from where he stayed propped up on the blanket. “How many clothes do you actually own with flowers on them?”

The question took her by surprise, and as she glanced down at the floral print of her outfit, Taylor couldn’t help her smile. “A lot. When I see a nice pattern, I can’t help myself.”

“I’m a bit like that, actually.”

While his t-shirt was plain white, the pocket on the left side of his chest had an intricate black and white design on it, the same on both of the sleeves. Simple, but a bit different.

“I really like all your dresses and everything. They really suit you.”

“Thanks for saying that,” Taylor smiled genuinely, and when she finally glanced back up at him, she discovered he had his phone out. Pointing at _her_.

“Sorry,” Harry quickly apologised as soon as her expression changed, exiting out of his camera app with a hurried tap. “I’m– I don’t mean to be, like, a fucking creep. I should’ve said something first. It’s just, the sunlight on your hair, it looks so golden. You look… magical.”

If anyone else said that to her, she would think they were lying, or, in the case of a guy, just trying to hit on her. But Harry… Harry seemed so positively sincere with all of his compliments. It didn’t sound like he said things for the sake of it, but like he genuinely believed every kind word that left his mouth. Maybe he just saw the world through rose tinted glasses, but Taylor loved it. She loved being noticed in a way that she hadn’t before.

“I can delete the picture,” he began to offer, but she shook her head.

“Can I see it?”

Harry handed over his phone, and through the spider web of cracks that tainted the screen, Taylor saw herself captured in a candid smile. The sun shone brightly on her blonde hair, making it almost white on the very top from overexposure, and he was right: it _did_ make a pretty photo.

“You sure you’re not a photographer too?” she teased lightly, happy to see his grin again as she passed his phone back. “Did you want to get your screen fixed? It must be driving you crazy like that.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he said, tucking his phone back in the side pocket of his shorts. “I’ll wait ‘til I get back to work, upgrade then.”

Before she could even ask if he was doing okay for cash now that he was stuck out of work for so long and still having to pay rent for his studio flat, Harry cut in with a question of his own.

“So, if I pointed out a plant, would you be able to name it?”

“Not _every_ plant, but yeah, I could try.”

“What about that tree there?”

Following the point of his finger, Taylor gave a breezy smile. _Too easy._

“That’s an oak tree, Harry.”

“Alright, Miss Horticulturist,” Harry laughed at her confidently blunt tone. “What’s its fancy name?”

“Quercus. It’s part of the beech family.”

Taylor continued to impress him with her nature knowledge, listing off common and scientific names like she was reading out of a textbook. Most people didn’t take her plant passion seriously, but Taylor had studied hard to learn as much as she could. She could walk down streets and identify plants in people’s gardens, and when she saw something she liked but couldn’t name, she took a picture so she could search it up later. She might not make a great impact on the world by being able to tell the difference between rose varieties, but that was okay. She helped bring colour and joy into people’s lives through the flower arrangements she made, and that was what really mattered to her.

Harry, surprisingly, was hooked on every word. He was not like any other twenty-year-old guy she had ever met.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you, actually,” he told her, tucking his hair behind his ear. They’d long since finished their lunch and had delved into the fruit she had packed along, as well as the cookies. There was a crumb on the corner of his lip from the one he had just devoured, and just for a moment, Taylor was tempted to kiss it off. “There’s this exhibition opening later in the week and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind going to have a look with me sometime? The gallery’s not too far; I’ve been there before. Just, if you have time, maybe?”

“Of course,” Taylor agreed without hesitation, seeing Harry visibly relax over her approval. “When does it open?”

“Thursday night. I obviously don’t want to go to the opening like this, but…”

“How about Saturday? I’m only doing the morning shift, so we could go in the afternoon. Maybe go somewhere for dinner if you’re feeling up for it?”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry grinned eagerly. “Thanks, Tay.”

Taylor smiled back with the sneaking suspicion that they had both just asked each other out on a date.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“You look different.”

Taylor glanced up from where she sat a fresh bouquet of lilies in the display pot with the rest of them. She had clocked in early to open the store, Amanda having only just started for the day an hour after opening. The young brunette was peering at her through too-long bangs from her spot behind the counter, trying to pinpoint just what it was that was out of the ordinary.

“I look the same as I do every day,” Taylor countered, though that wasn’t strictly true. While her winged eyeliner and red lipstick were staples in her make-up routine, she had on a few extra coats of mascara. Her flowery dress wasn’t new, but it was a special silk one she had never worn to work before on account of how much it had cost. Underneath, she had a matching pair of lacy white underwear, but it’s not like anyone else knew _that_.

“Did you do something with your hair?”

“I washed it last night, if that counts.”

“No, it’s not that.” Amanda tapped her chin, her gaze following Taylor as she neatened things around the shop. “There’s, like, a spring in your step, or something.”

Twisting away to hide the blush rising on her cheeks, Taylor feigned obliviousness. It was Saturday. Of course she was excited.

“Have you got plans tonight?” Amanda persisted.

“Tonight? No,” she said, not quite a lie. Taylor and Harry didn’t _exactly_ have plans _tonight_. Just this _afternoon_. They were winging the rest of the night.

“There’s _something_.”

Despite her insistent staring, Amanda didn’t figure out what it was that Taylor was keeping to herself all through her shift. Taylor finished up at midday when Crista arrived for her shift, tapping away on her candy pink heels with a happy little wave.

Harry was in an especially good mood when she got home, smiling her a welcome from the kitchen where he was in the midst of making toasted cheese sandwiches for their lunch. She tried to take over, but he poked her in the side until she was hopping away in giggles.

It was silly. It wasn’t like they were _really_ going on a date. They were two friends going to an art gallery because one couldn’t take themselves there on their own. No big deal.

Except every time Taylor looked at him, her heart did a giddy little leap, because it really had been that long since she had last done something like this.

She was trying to play it cool, though. As they ate lunch, she tried not to pay too much attention to Harry’s fluffy clean hair or his jacquard-printed button-down or his black denim shorts he had managed to wriggle into. He looked _nice_. Like, _date_ nice.

God, Taylor wanted to start banging her head on the table. When did she get so obsessed with these things? (Since forever)

Following the directions he read from his phone, Taylor drove them to the parking lot as close to the gallery as they could find. Harry wheeled himself along beside her, enthusiastically telling her more about the artworks they were about to see. The artist was a local woman, one Taylor had never heard of, but if Harry’s excitement was anything to go by, her work was good.

Taylor held the door open for him and as soon as he rolled in, she immediately saw the shift in Harry’s demeanour. Here, in the quiet of the gallery, was exactly where he belonged.

They paid the small entry fee at the front desk and picked up programs before venturing into the main space. It was mostly open, with paintings hung up on the white outer walls and on two three-quarter walls that divided the middle. There were a couple sculptures on display too, with a few benches positioned strategically for visitors to relax on.

There were only a few people wandering around; they all kept their voices low, sounds echoing through the space otherwise. As the pair began looking around, they too stayed mostly silent. Harry’s quiet concentration was back; he looked rapt. Occasionally he would murmur praise, but mostly he was too engrossed in the pictures on the walls and the effects they had on him.

Taylor didn’t mind them. Some of them were a bit too modern for her taste, but she appreciated the effort that had gone into them. The artist was experimental, and Taylor admired the risks that they had clearly believed wholeheartedly in.

“I want to do something like this,” Harry murmured when they stopped in front of a large canvas, a black and white portrait painted on top. Black paint seeped down in thick drips that formed the silhouette of a woman’s face, as opposed to conventional brush strokes. It was different, probably Taylor’s favourite so far.

“It’s interesting,” she softly agreed.

 “Can I borrow your face?” he asked, tilting his head up to smile at her charmingly.

“Not on a canvas _that_ big.”

“You’re beautiful, angel,” he reminded her, and Taylor was left blushing as they moved along.

After they made it around the works once, Harry guided them over to rest at one of the seats overlooking the room. Taylor sat at the edge of the hard bench, Harry stopping up beside her. They remained silent, watching the few stray bodies wander around and take in the art they had just seen. Harry always liked to people watch in these places, intrigued by other’s reactions.

“D’you like it here?” he asked her, and when she nodded back, he smiled kindly.

While she was gazing ahead, peering at a sculpture made of chicken wire from afar, Harry subtly reached for hand, taking Taylor by surprise as he intertwined their fingers. His hand was warm, bigger than hers, yet still gentle. It had her heart pounding in her chest, her lips playing at an undeniable smile.

Harry was holding her hand. _Her_ hand. And when Taylor glanced at him, he was smiling back at her like he couldn’t believe it either.

“This is going to be you one day,” Taylor whispered to him after a little while, and he gave her a slight confused look. “Having an exhibition. People admiring your work.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harry mumbled, though he gave a small appreciative squeeze of her hand.

“I do. I’m not messing around with you when I say you’re really good at what you do – better than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, smiling gratefully. “I’d love to do this one day. It’d be… a dream come true.”

“I really think you can do it.”

“Maybe you could come to my very first opening. I mean, you’d have to, if there’s a giant canvas with your face on it.”

As hard as she tried not to, Taylor giggled a bit louder than she wanted to; they got a couple odd glances that neither of them noticed as they leaned toward each other.

“That part’s not happening.”

“Are you kidding? I could fill this whole gallery with pictures of you. _Taylor: A Swift Exhibition_.”

“Stop it,” she giggled again, trying to hide her laughter as she dropped her chin toward her shoulder. Her adorable reaction was only inspiring Harry more.

“I love your dress. It, like, floats over you. Like something out of a dream.”

“You’ve really got this angel thing stuck in your head, haven’t you?” she said, as if she didn’t love every time it left his pretty lips.

“’m gonna get you wings for your birthday,” he promised with a cheeky grin. “That, and another floral dress to add to your collection.” With his free hand, he delicately touched the short sleeve of her patterned dress. “Is this silk?”

She nodded. “It’s beautiful to wear.”

“It looks beautiful on.” Harry leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her hair as he spoke in her ear, “Might steal you for some hugs later.”

If he noticed the small shiver than ran down her spine, he didn’t say anything.

They hung around at the gallery longer than most, going around to look at each work again. Taylor felt the cold absence of Harry’s hand as they slowly went around, which was crazy when they were approaching the middle of summer. She could still feel the tingle she got from having him murmur in her ear, and ridiculously she hoped for more (only perhaps a little less _clean_ ).

When they finally departed, they stopped by the neighbouring café and each got large cups of coffee, settling at a round table by the window. Harry even got extra chocolate dusted on top of his cappuccino thanks to the sympathetic barista, an unexpected perk for having a broken leg.

They window shopped for a while, upon Harry’s insistence that he really didn’t mind the exertion. Rather, he was craving getting out like this more often. Taylor could see the good it was doing for him, even if he did have to stop to take some more painkillers before they went to find somewhere to go for dinner.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Harry promised her for the millionth time, handing the pill bottle back to Taylor to slip back into her pink bag. “Just a bit of an ache in my leg. You don’t have to keep looking at me like that.”

“I worry about you.”

“You really don’t have to.”

Taylor’s intuition told her not to believe him, but for now, she let it rest.

Harry chose a casual hipster diner for them to get a meal from, and they were lucky to score a table at the relatively small joint. They split a serve of nachos coated in a generous helping of cheese and more curly fries on the side than they really needed; it gave Taylor flashbacks of relaxed high school dates, and considering Harry hadn’t even graduated that long ago… Maybe they could split a milkshake and make out in the back of the car later.

Well, at least they got a milkshake. They got a large chocolate shake in a retro glass, a red-and-white-striped straw each. They both leaned in together to sip in unison, their eyes locked as their faces were mere inches apart, until Harry’s smile turned into a laugh he couldn’t contain anymore and he had to pull away before he spat shake everywhere.

“You’re teasing me,” Harry playfully whined, dramatically tossing his hair. Taylor simply shrugged, smiling as she sipped away. She knew if she leaned forward like so, he would get a better peek of cleavage with the lace up front of her dress, and neither were complaining about _that_.

Only Harry didn’t flirt with her the way that she had been anticipating when she got the whole date thing in her head. There were definitely some moments, but she, perhaps unfairly, wanted more. It looked like he wanted to, maybe, if she was optimistic. But maybe it was for the best that he didn’t. If things got complicated, it would grow awkward living in close quarters. The last thing they needed was for things to get weird.

“Thanks for today, Tay,” he smiled up at her later, once they’d made it home and were about to call it a night. He held her hand again, swinging lightly. “I really enjoyed it.”

“Me too,” Taylor returned, swaying as she stood by where he sat on the couch so the skirt of her dress flowed prettily around her thighs. “We should hang out like that more.”

“I’ll start writing a list of places we could go,” Harry teased, leaving both of them with a spark of anticipation after they gave each other a hug goodnight. Not the most perfect end to their outing possible, but certainly not nothing.

No, Taylor lay awake with the tug of hope, falling into the kind of sweet dreams she hadn’t had in a long time.


	3. Chapter Three

“I still can’t believe you’re letting a guy stay with you,” Selena marvelled as she finally got a firsthand look at Harry’s takeover of the main room of Taylor’s apartment. Most of his things were in the suitcase that sat at the end of his temporary bed, but his art materials had spread over the coffee table and across the floor in front of the windows. It was very obvious she was no longer alone.

They were having a girls’ night while Harry was out at his Tuesday art class, giving them some time alone before Selena finally got to meet the guy who now shared her apartment; Taylor had picked her up after dropping Harry off. Both were excited, Taylor a little nervous over what Selena was going to think of him, but she was trying to ignore that.

“My mom thinks I need an intervention,” Taylor said plainly, letting her eyes drift over the space that now screamed Harry.

“Has she spoken to him yet?”

“That’s really not a conversation I’m eager for them to have.”

Not that she didn’t think that Harry was the kind of genuinely nice guy her parents would like, but Taylor knew her mom wasn’t entirely convinced that welcoming him into her home without so much as a second thought was actually a good idea. She trusted Taylor’s judgment, but she sensed that Taylor’s generosity was also part guilt. “It could’ve been _me!”_ she’d cried when last trying to explain herself, not listening when her mother told her that she didn’t owe Harry anything.

Her mom was never going to be rude, but Taylor found it easier to keep their Skype sessions to when Harry wasn’t around to be invited to join in.

“So I’m your tester then: if he passes me, he’ll probably pass your mom,” Selena reasoned, stepping over on bare feet to inspect the paper Harry had left out to dry earlier. “Wow, have you seen this?”

“Yep,” Taylor answered as she crossed over to join her, picking up the paint palette he had abandoned beside it. She knew it wasn’t exactly convenient for Harry just to get up and wash it in the sink, but she wished he wouldn’t just leave wet paint lying around like that. One of these days a cat was going to step in it, and Taylor wasn’t keen on the idea of scrubbing the floors to remove multicoloured pawprints before she got in trouble with the landlord.

“They’re the ones in your room?”

“Yeah. He wanted some roses to practice with, so I brought some home for him. He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

They were looking over the watercolour Harry had done earlier in the day, a pretty little painting he had done in his sketchbook filled with thicker paper specially for the type of paint. It was delicate and impressive the way he had captured the pink Queen Elizabeth’s she had arranged just for him. As soon as he had let her see it, she immediately wanted to bring home more bouquets for him to work with.

“You brought him flowers, you must be smitten,” Selena teased with a friendly smile, setting the book back down on the floor as if they had never moved it at all. “Show me the ones he’s done of you.”

After taking the (mostly dry) palette and the cup of water with paintbrushes still in it just waiting to be tipped over, safely depositing them in the kitchen sink, Taylor found a loose sheet of paper with a charcoal sketch of her on it. She felt too tentative to show Selena anything that wasn’t out in the open and therefore fair game, yet she knew his more detailed drawings were tucked away in sketchbooks. Maybe he’d volunteer to show her some later.

“Maybe I should find myself an artist boyfriend,” Selena contemplated as she gazed over the quality sketch in her hands.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

They took peeks at other loose papers left around (Honestly, did he really think he could get away with leaving things around without one or both of the cats inevitably ruining things? One piece literally had a corner bitten off), trying their best not to move things too noticeably. Most were paintings of the plants around the apartment, a few from the books Harry had started looking through.

“Hey, is this you?”

Selena passed over a bit of card with a painting of a blonde girl, which sure, could’ve been her, only Taylor knew it couldn’t possibly be.

“Um, _no_. He’s never seen me naked before,” Taylor insisted, handing back the picture of a topless woman that showed only from just below her breasts up to her nose. It was well done, but yeah, _not her_.

“The lips look a lot like yours,” Selena still thought as she took another look.

“Well the boobs definitely aren’t, I can promise you that.”

The only one of them that had bumped into the other changing was Taylor, and she didn’t think it really counted when she regularly saw Harry in just his underwear whenever he wanted a shower, anyway. She hadn’t seen any more of him and he certainly not of her, and she figured it was likely to stay that way.

“Would you let him paint you like that?”

“What? No way! No.”

“C’mon, Tay, you’re gorgeous. Live a little.”

“I’ll live with my clothes on, thanks. Why don’t _you_ sit for him, if you like the idea so much?”

“Maybe,” Selena said, though Taylor knew she didn’t mean it. Sure, she was more confident in her appearance, but Taylor knew she wouldn’t make any kind of move like that that would make her uncomfortable. Friends didn’t take their clothes off for people the other maybe liked.

Taylor had never admitted it, but yeah, she was developing what might be considered feelings for Harry. It wasn’t preferable, but there wasn’t a lot of say in matters of the heart.

Once they finished up secretively looking over Harry’s work, the girls got themselves comfortable lounged out on the couch together. They had changed into their pyjamas when they first arrived in sleepover tradition, and were so ready for the interesting rest of the night ahead.

They watched the final half hour of an action movie they didn’t really care much for while they painted each other’s nails (red for Taylor, dark blue for Selena). Deciding to put on something they were actually keen on watching, they filled a bowl with popcorn and sat it between them as the chick flick they’d slid into the DVD player began.

Both had seen _13 Going On 30_ a couple times before, and both did love a good dance party, so it wasn’t really surprising when Jenna and the girls let loose in one sleepover scene and Taylor and Selena did the same.

Jumping up and into some clear space, the girls twirled around and sung along loudly to ‘Love is a Battlefield’ as if they too were in the movie. It was carefree fun made even better by sharing it with their best friend. They got so into it, paying zero attention to anything else going on – there wasn’t normally anything else going on.

Except Taylor now had a roommate, one with a key she had thoughtfully given him in case he needed it, and one who could apparently get through the front door unnoticed.

How long Harry stopped by the door just watching them in amusement, neither would know, but Taylor instantly shrieked when she caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye as she spun around in her untamed dancing. It only took a second for her to stop and realise who it was, and the three of them looked between each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of hysterics.

“Fucking hell, Taylor,” Harry laughed, clutching at his chest as he tried to calm down.

“I’m so sorry,” Taylor grinned, struggling to get a hold of her own laughter. “You scared me!”

“I scared the shit out of you,” he agreed, looking far too gorgeous as he tilted his head back and really truly _laughed_. He groaned in between, running his hand over his still-tender ribs. “Fuck, Tay.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” Lifting his head back up, he returned his gaze over to Selena, offering her a friendly grin. “Selena, right? I’m Harry.”

He pushed over in his wheelchair, extending his hand out to shake Selena’s, and Taylor could practically see the tick of approval Selena was giving him in her head.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. How are you doing?”

“Not too bad, considering.”

“I’ve got something for you,” Selena said, and both Harry and Taylor looked surprised as she skipped into Taylor’s bedroom in search of her overnight bag. Harry looked at Taylor questioningly, but she just shrugged. She hadn’t said anything about bringing him something.

When she returned, Selena handed over a pink envelope, and Taylor mouthed, _“Are you kidding me?”_ behind Harry’s back as he, sure enough, pulled out a ‘get well’ card. Selena just smiled, was proved that her token of kindness was worth it as Harry giggled at whatever she had written inside and thanked her appreciatively.

“Did you want to join us?” Taylor asked him as he went to set the art things he had taken to class with him back with the rest of his belongings. Harry glanced up at her, smiling.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your night.”

“It’s cool,” Selena assured him. “If you don’t mind the movie.”

“You kidding? This is a great one.”

So when they settled back on the couch, Taylor was situated between Harry and Selena, both of them sitting close to her – probably so they could easily reach the bowl of popcorn now in her lap. They wound the film back a little so they could catch up on the bit they had missed thanks to their startling encounter, Harry more than happy just to pick up from where they were up to.

As she was sitting on his right, Taylor was closest to the cast he had doodled all over, and she was careful not to bump him by mistake. Occasionally, after he grabbed a handful of popcorn, he rested his hand in the small gap between their legs, his fingers brushing against her bare thigh; her little PJ shorts rode up high, and she certainly wasn’t complaining.

Taylor tried to keep her attention on the movie and not on the heat Harry brought to her skin he brushed against, that bit easier thanks to Selena’s presence. At least she knew there was no hope of anything happening between them while her friend was there.

They switched back to the TV channels after the film finished, flicking around as they chatted. Selena was completely comfortable in talking with Harry, intrigued to get to know him, the one guy who had managed to poke at Taylor’s ‘I’m happy on my own’ stance. Taylor had to admit, she was grateful that Selena wanted to make sure she wasn’t getting into anything she shouldn’t.

The girls retreated to Taylor’s bedroom when Harry started yawning. While Selena said only a light goodnight, Taylor lingered to make sure he got into his bed okay after giving him a parting hug. Selena peeped from the doorway, bouncing on her toes as Taylor flicked off the lights before joining her, pushing the door almost shut behind her.

“Oh my god,” Selena gasped, making sure to keep her voice down as they climbed up onto the bed. Meredith was asleep on the end, only briefly stirring at the disruption. “He’s so hot – way to go, Tay!”

“Shh,” Taylor blushed, hoping that Harry wouldn’t be able to hear them despite their efforts to keep their exclamations quiet.

“I’ve got to admit, I was concerned when you said you had let a stranger into your place, but he’s _so_ nice!”

“I _told_ you! He’s always so polite but also, like, sarcastic and teasing and–” Sighing, Taylor knew her cheeks were pink and she had a gleeful smile, but she couldn’t help it. “He’s fun to have around. He brings something that I haven’t had here before.”

“You should ask him if he wants to come to the party.”

“I was thinking about it, but I don’t know if it’s something he’d really be interested in. I mean, he can’t even walk and he’s not drinking, either. Plus, he’s British.”

With the Fourth of July weekend fast approaching, the girls already had their plans sorted: a party at a friend’s, Taylor insisting upon bringing a lot of the food for the group of them. Naturally, no one had tried to stop her from volunteering – they all loved Taylor’s treats. She wanted to ask Harry if he was interested in coming, but she wasn’t so sure a party, however low key it might be, was really what he was up for right now.

“Just ask him! I bet he’d totally come just for you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“He’s so into you, Tay!”

Automatically she shook her head.

“Have you even _seen_ how he looks at you? Like you’re an angel or something.”

Taylor tried her best to bite back her smile. Selena was more accurate than she even knew.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

In the early hours of Sunday morning, Taylor stumbled into her apartment after having tried three times to get her key in the lock, finally figuring it out on the fourth. The _fourth_. The irony had her giggling stupidly to herself.

She had been right in assuming that Harry didn’t want to come to their Independence Day celebration – or rather, he would’ve liked to have come, just not in the state he was in. A broken leg didn’t exactly exude a sense of fun and excitement, and he really didn’t want to be a downer on what would otherwise be a good get together. There was also the whole not-being-an-American thing, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He would’ve liked to have gotten to know some more of her friends, and she was sure they would like him, too.

The day had been fantastic: meeting up in the afternoon, they had had plenty of time to play around in the backyard pool at one of the guy’s places, having a delicious dinner (Taylor’s potato salad was voted the best part) and a festive cake and apple pie for dessert (again, Taylor’s marvellous creations), chatting and listening to music for hours. And drinking. _Lots_ of drinking.

It would’ve been easier just to crash at the house and get a ride home in the morning, but Taylor wanted to make sure that Harry was doing okay. It was unnecessary, but she couldn’t put a halt on her nurturing nature.

When she teetered in, Harry was surprisingly still up despite the late hour. He was spread out on the couch watching the TV with the sound down, tilting his head up when he heard her return.

“Didn’t expect you to be back ‘til tomorrow,” he said, sounding sleepy. “How was the party?”

“It was great!” Taylor replied too enthusiastically, leaving her things on the dining table. She kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the floor beside him, not quite as graceful as usual. “You really should’ve come.”

“Nah.” Sitting up, he started to shift to make room for her. “You can tell me all about it.”

“Do you want some cake? Or pie? I saved you a slice of both.”

Once he propped his leg up on the table like normal, Taylor climbed up to join him on the sofa, sitting close beside him. She was smiling, especially as Harry’s eyes drifted down to take in her starry top and denim cut offs, bikini still on underneath.

“You seem like you’ve had a good time.”

“Mhm!”

“And you seem quite drunk.”

Biting her lip, failing to hold back her grin, Taylor soon burst into tell-tale giggles. She didn’t often drink much, but it was a holiday, so what the hey?

“You didn’t drive, did you?”

“No! God, no. I got a taxi.”

“Glad to hear that, love.”

As she twisted a lock of his loose hair around her finger, Taylor had the inexplicable urge to kiss him. She always had been a bit of a clingy drunk – which Harry quickly learnt as she draped her around him and flopped down to rest her head on his shoulder. He chuckled in surprise, sliding his arm around her as she got herself comfortable cuddling up to him.

“You smell like chlorine,” he commented, and she smiled against his soft sleep shirt.

“We went swimming. I haven’t showered yet.”

“’m not sure I trust you to have one on your own right now.”

“I’m not that drunk! I only had a few.”

“A few too many,” Harry teased, cheekily tickling her side. Taylor laughed loudly, squirming up against him until he ceased.

“That was _mean_ ,” she whined, relaxing back so she was practically half sitting on his lap, apparently no longer caring about personal space. All she wanted right then was to be close to him, and Harry didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a cute drunk?”

“Not anyone as cute as you.”

In a sound state of mind, she likely would’ve been embarrassed for spilling a line like that, but Taylor just giggled. It’s not like it wasn’t true.

“ _Oh_ , so _flirty_ Taylor comes out after a few drinks. Nice,” Harry grinned, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin of her thigh. It sent heat coursing through her body, very nearly had her shifting herself onto his lap properly.

“You should probably get some sleep, love,” he went on to say, which was _so_ not what she wanted to hear.

“I’m not tired yet.”

“Want to hang out here with me for a bit, then?”

“Yes, please.”

Despite her insistence that she wasn’t ready for bed, Taylor got so _comfy_ tucked up under Harry’s arm. She barely paid attention to what was on the television; it was mere background noise as she relaxed with her head against his shoulder, a quiet contentment after the fun of the day. It wasn’t long before her eyelids began to feel heavy and she struggled to keep her eyes open, the warm feeling she got from being so close to him, from having him _want_ to be close to her, the only thing keeping her awake.

When it had been a while since she had last spoken, Harry twisted his head to try to see if she was still up, carefully brushing her hair away from her face.

“Tay?”

“Yeah?” she replied softly, tilting up to look back at him.

“’m not gonna be able to carry you to bed if you fall asleep on me,” he pointed out, and she smiled as she finally, rather reluctantly, pulled herself away from him.

“Do you wanna come in with me?”

A slow smirk teased at Harry’s lips, one he was unable to fight off despite the voice in his head telling him not to take advantage of her.

“S’pose it would be irresponsible of me to let you be alone like this,” he flirted back, lightly tipping her chin up. “Get yourself ready, love. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Taylor was _very_ pleased with herself as she headed for the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, remembering to take out her contacts, not wanting a repeat of the mornings she woke up with them still in. Her hair didn’t feel very nice thanks to all the time spent in the pool, but she would deal with that later.

Harry waited for her to change into her pyjamas first before he made his way into the bedroom with her, bringing his pillow along with him. He nodded toward the bikini set she had carelessly left on the floor, smiling as he glanced back at her. “Bet that looked nice on you,” he easily guessed, and she wished she had thought to show him while she still had it on.

“You really should’ve come,” Taylor insisted again as she climbed under the light blankets. “I missed you there.”

It was a crazy thing to think, an even crazier thing to say, but Harry looked at her in such soft wonder that it didn’t seem so foolish at all.

“Maybe we could do something together again sometime, just you and me,” he suggested, carefully manoeuvring himself into a comfortable position beside her.

“I’d love that.”

Once they switched the bedside lamp off, silence overtook the apartment. It wasn’t at all awkward having him in with her, rather she adored the way he gazed at her in the dark and gently stroked her hair as she laid on her side facing him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had such a tender goodnight, and it was such a shame she wasn’t sober enough to be able to later recall every little detail of right now later.

 

*** * * * ***

 

When Taylor peeked her eyelids open past midday, she found Harry was still beside her, reading something on his phone. For a moment she had to wonder what on earth she’d done with him last night, but considering her clothes were still on, she assumed she was safe from ruin.

Harry noticed when she stirred, looking her way and smiling when he saw she was awake. “Good morning – or afternoon, I should say,” he welcomed her softly, and god, was his adorable smile and his slow accented voice the perfect thing to wake up to. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Taylor quietly exhaled, turning on her side to properly face him. While she could move around in the night as she pleased, Harry was permanently stuck lying on his back; he barely looked like he’d moved at all, even though he’d slipped out of bed when he’d awoken earlier.

“How you feeling?” he asked, putting his phone down.

Her head felt fuzzy and her mouth was begging for some water and freshening up with some toothpaste, but she still gave a small smile and an, “I’m okay.”

“I was hoping you’d wake up soon – I’m starving, didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You really didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Course I did. Do you want tea or coffee? Or something else?”

“You don’t have to make me anyth–”

Harry interrupted by pressing a finger to her lips, smiling at her. “It’s my turn to take care of you. No arguing. I want to.”

Truthfully, Taylor didn’t really _want_ to argue. It was nice to have someone look out for her, even if she didn’t particularly need it. It was the thought that counted, and Harry clearly seemed determined to go through with it.

“So, what would you like to drink?” he asked again, and she willingly relented.

“Coffee, please.”

With a committing nod, Harry sat up. “I’ll be back. You wait here, love.”

Taylor watched as he shifted up to standing and hopped away on his crutches, wondering how she had managed to befriend such a genuinely good guy under the worst circumstances.

Staying in bed for a couple minutes longer, listening to the sounds of the kettle boiling and Harry pottering in the kitchen, Taylor soon got up after him. She slid on her glasses before heading for the bathroom, almost regretting her wish to see clearly when she caught sight of her reflection. Her hair desperately needed a good wash, having turned to unappealing stringy curls from where she had been swimming at the party. She was almost too embarrassed to let Harry see it in the clear daylight, especially when she realised that her top was partially see-through and he would likely be able to tell she had forgotten to put a bra on when she’d changed last night.

Instead of cowering though, she scooped up Olivia on her way to the kitchen, using her as a furry shield in front of her chest. Harry saw her without make-up on all the time; it really wasn’t that bad.

“You weren’t planning on using this for anything in particular, right?” Harry checked, halting the hand grasping a knife he was using to cut the thick strips of fat on the rashers of bacon he had taken from the fridge.

“Go for it,” she permitted – like she was really going to say no to bacon for breakfast. Glancing at the mugs he had set out on the bench, she pointed to her usual flower-printed cup that was steaming with hot liquid. “Is this mine?”

“Yeah, I hope it’s okay,” he smiled as she reached for the handle. “You can go back to bed, if you like. I’m okay out here.”

“I can see that,” Taylor smiled back, forcing herself to walk away before she could kiss him on the cheek like she suddenly had the urge to. Not that he didn’t deserve it, she just didn’t want to make things awkward.

Bringing Olivia along with her, Taylor headed back to bed, feeling quite well with her coffee and the promise of a good breakfast she didn’t have to make for herself. She found her phone on the way and texted Selena; it was weird not seeing her on a Sunday, but yoga really hadn’t been in the cards this week.

She perused her social media while she waited, checking out what other people were up to over the Independence Day weekend. Olivia sat comfortably on top of her, pushing her head up into Taylor’s hand as she scratched behind her ears, eager for more. Taylor loved having at least _one_ friendly cat that always enjoyed the affection she had to give.

About ten minutes later, Harry came wheeling in – he’d switched aids so he could carry everything in on his own. Along with some cutlery, he had a plate balancing on his lap, which he pushed over to her across the wrinkled blankets with a grin.

“Breakfast, angel,” he announced, passing over a knife and fork as she smiled at the neat stack of pancakes he presented to her, glistening with honey. The smell of the crispy bacon on the side had her mouth watering.

“Thank you.”

Moving Olivia off her lap, Taylor sat up properly and replaced the space with her plate, her cat plopping down up against her in the hopes of more affection or maybe some scraps. Harry soon came back with his own stack, his cup of coffee sandwiched between his thighs so it wouldn’t spill on the way.

“So, what’s your verdict?” he asked when he got himself resettled beside her, Olivia sprawled out in the gap between them. He sat with his plate on his lap, cutlery poised in either hand.

Chewing the mouthful she had, Taylor looked at him deadly seriously as she declared, “You’re on breakfast duty from now on.”

A smile slowly forming on his lips, Harry broke into a full-on grin when Taylor broke her façade and started to laugh.

“These are really good, thank you,” she smiled truthfully, admiring the dimple creasing his cheek as he glanced down to cut a careful piece out of his perfectly fluffy pancakes.

“You’re very welcome, Tay,” he said, and if she didn’t know better she would’ve sworn he sounded bashful.

It was wonderfully relaxed, eating breakfast in bed together in the middle of the day. Weeks ago, the thought that she would be happily sharing her space with a guy she just met was laughable. Things like this didn’t just happen to Taylor. They didn’t happen to Harry either, which was certainly a damn good thing. Neither one of them wanted him to experience something as atrocious as the accident again.

They nursed their coffees once they were finished with their food, having to stack their plates on top of one of the nightstands so Olivia wouldn’t lick the top one like she had immediately tried to when they just left them on the blankets.

“I’ve got to be honest, I’ve slipped them both a little something while it’s just been me here,” Harry admitted as he gave Olivia a scratch behind the ears, making her purr appreciatively.

Raising her eyebrow, Taylor shook her head. “Oh, so _that’s_ why they like you so much,” she laughed. Olivia often curled up with Harry, happy to be in his company, Meredith occasionally joining him when she was in the mood. It was kind of cute, actually. He’d gotten the friend _and_ the cat approval.

“I found their treats in the cupboard, too.”

“It’s all making sense now.”

Harry grinned at her, and Taylor wished her insides didn’t flutter at the sight.

When Olivia eventually decided to go off on her own, Taylor followed suit, taking their dishes out to the kitchen and leaving them in the sink. She topped up the cats’ food and water bowls while she was at it, and when she returned to her room, she intended on it being a brief stop before getting into the few things she needed to get done today.

But then Harry tilted his head at her, looking unfairly attractive with his floppy hair and his sweet smile, and she was putty in his hands.

“You look really pretty with your glasses on,” he complimented, and she really didn’t want to be that girl whose insecurities lifted with a boy’s validation, but right then she was. “They suit your features. C’mere.”

When Harry opened his arm out, gesturing for her to return to her spot beside him – only a lot closer than before – Taylor hesitated by her closet. She needed a shower, not to jump into Harry’s arms.

As seconds passed and she didn’t make a move, Harry’s cheerfulness deflated, his arm slowly dropping back down to his side. Taylor instantly felt a wrench of guilt, like she’d just kicked a puppy. Oh god, he didn’t think she only wanted to cuddle him when she was drunk, did he?

Taylor gave him more than he bargained for when she impulsively skipped over to him, and instead of going around him, she climbed right over the top of him. It returned his smile as she scooted up against him, letting him slide his arm around her waist. His gaze fixed on her face, and the warmth in which he looked at her had her melting on the spot.

“You should try wider frames,” he thought, lightly tilting her chin to angle her face a couple ways as he studied her. “I think they’d look good on you.”

“I used to have a pair like that, they really weren’t cool,” she countered, glad that she stuck to her sleek frames when she wore glasses nowadays. They looked more mature, and considering she was hardly at her best right now, she was happy to not have anything making her look unnecessarily dorky.

“I reckon you could make anything look cool,” he said, and she really had to scoff. That was so far from the truth.

“Don’t give me any of that ‘I’m not pretty’ bullshit,” he went on.

“You’re crazy.”

“If I’m crazy for thinking you’re incredibly beautiful, then so be it.”

God. Did he have to be so _charming?_

Instead of breaking away, Taylor properly cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder like she had the night before. Harry kept his arm around her, and as she laid her hand over his chest, she could feel the quickened beat of his heart. If she looked up, she would’ve seen him blushing.

Once she got comfortable, it was hard to want to move again. Like, _ever_. Harry was warm and she fit perfectly under his arm – no wonder she had almost fallen asleep on him last night. She wasn’t even tired now and she felt like if she closed her eyes, she could contentedly drift off into a nice nap. There was just something about Harry…

Trust. Taylor trusted him, right from the get go. It had been a long time since she had let a guy in, and Harry was continuously proving that trusting him wasn’t a mistake. Not even the slightest.

“Thank you,” she murmured after a while, and Harry looked down at her quizzically, his finger still tracing absent circles over her hip bone. She wished she wasn’t wearing anything and she could feel that finger igniting skin instead.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” he said, but she did, just not in the obvious ways he had to thank her.

Harry’s phone vibrated nearby, but he ignored it; it thrilled Taylor that he would rather pay attention to her than someone through a screen. His heartbeat had relaxed, but he certainly hadn’t numbed to the feeling of their bodies connecting. He’d struggled a bit when she twisted more toward him and he could really feel her breasts pressing up against him, but his willpower had prevented any awkward developments.

“I really should shower,” Taylor eventually acknowledged again, though she really just wanted to stay where she was – maybe with another one of his cups of coffee.

“I _am_ getting a bit hot here,” Harry laughed lightly, but when she went to pull away, he kept her firmly at his side.

“You should’ve said something earlier. Summer has got to be the worst time to have to wear a cast,” she realised, tilting her head up to look at him. He was smiling down at her fondly.

“I’m doing okay,” he promised. “I’m quite happy here, actually.”

Taylor smiled back. “Me too.”

“Is there anything you have to do today?”

“Just my usual gardening. Why?”

“Could you teach me?”

“Sure! If you want to learn.”

Once they finally parted, Taylor went off for her shower, feeling much better after rubbing shampoo into her hair and washing the lingering chlorine off her skin. Harry changed while she was in the bathroom, cooler in shorts and a printed t-shirt. He grinned at her when she stepped out with her short hair dripping on her tank top.

Filling up the spray bottle she always kept on her kitchen counter with fresh water, Taylor took him around to each of the potted plants she had around the apartment. She poked her finger into the first pot of soil, showing him how she checked the moisture level – different plants needed watering at different frequencies, and she let Harry do the spraying at the base of the plants he could reach in his chair. She showed him how she checked the leaves, spritzing them to wash off dust and ensuring each were healthy, using a small pair of shears to clip off a couple of browning leaves off some stalks. Harry was attentive the entire time, his interest taking her by pleasant surprise. A part of her was always waiting for him to make fun of her like she had experienced in the past, but from Harry, that mocking never came.

“I’d like to grow something too,” he thought when they stopped by the herbs on the windowsill, giving each little pot a light watering.

“I could take you to the nursery, if you want,” Taylor offered, glancing at him to see if he was actually serious. “I need to get some more potting mix, anyway. I’ve got some spare pots you could use, or you could pick out your own.”

“Really?” he said, and when he looked up at her with big green eyes, she knew he wasn’t joking. He _actually_ wanted to take care of something. Because of _her_. “Could you help me pick what would grow well in here?”

“Of course.”

“And can I paint the pot?”

Taylor smiled, gently running her fingers through his hair with affection. “You can paint it however you like,” she granted, and the way Harry grinned at her with those dimples and a sparkling light in his eyes should’ve been illegal. It fluttered Taylor’s insides like a million butterflies trapped in a tiny box, vying to break free.

At least when he eventually left, he would have something lasting to remember her by.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

One of the wonderful perks of being the proud owner of two cats was being woken up unexpectedly at ungodly hours of the night by little paws that apparently didn’t have any manners.

This time, it was Olivia (as it normally was) trying to climb over her while she was happily sleeping; apparently it was easier to scale over her face rather than go all the way around. Taylor startled awake, struggling to see in her dark surroundings. Olivia’s white fur gave her away, though, and Taylor whined uselessly at the blissfully unaware feline. At least she hadn’t left behind any scratches this time.

As she rolled over onto her opposite side, hoping to fall right back to sleep, Taylor realised that all was not quiet in her apartment, and that the sound she could hear was most definitely not coming from her other cat.

Pushing the blankets back, Taylor clambered out of bed, light on her feet as she moved to the open doorway. She really should’ve put her glasses on because she had to strain to get her eyes to focus in the dark, but she knew exactly what she was hearing.

“Harry?” she spoke softly, her voice sleepy and full of concern. Even with the lack of light, she could make out the way he threw his arm over his head, trying to hide. It was never going to work.

“Harry,” she repeated when she hurried over, kneeling down beside his temporary bed. After his short stay in her room over the weekend, he had returned to the lounge to maintain their usual separate space, but perhaps that hadn’t been the best for him. At least when he was staying in with her, he wasn’t crying in the middle of the night.

He tried to stop her from guiding his arm away from his face, though he soon surrendered. He let her pull him into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Tears streamed down his face despite his desperate longing for them to stop, especially now that she was there.

What Taylor was feeling was not judgment, but immense sorrow. The boy bawling in her arms did not deserve the ill that had come to him. He did not deserve the headaches or the soreness in his ribs and leg, nor the inability to get a lengthy sleep without being tormented by unwanted flashbacks. He did not deserve to feel like he had done something to warrant something so wretched happening to him. He did not deserve not to know how wholly wonderful he was.

Taylor let him cry himself out, holding him close, making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. She whispered quiet comforts, trying to soothe him with her gentle words. Harry was burning with embarrassment over being caught in such an emotional state, but truth be told, Taylor helped. Hearing her say he was going to be okay almost made him believe it.

“Breathe, baby,” she tried to calm him, running her hand in circles over his shaking back. He was gulping for air between each sob and she just needed him to _relax_. “You’re alright. No one’s gonna hurt you now, baby, I promise.”

It was a promise she couldn’t truly make, but Taylor would give anything to make it happen.

Harry’s grip on her tightened, and when he finally managed to speak, his words came out choked. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

“Oh, Harry, no,” she sighed sadly, gently rocking him back and forth. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

He wasn’t so sure he agreed, but he didn’t argue.

It took a while for Harry to pacify, his cries eventually lulling to wet sniffles. The darkness concealed his red eyes and blotchy cheeks, his sodden skin and runny nose in desperate need of tissues. He had dampened a patch of her tee and he felt ashamed for such an outburst, even though she felt nothing but tenderness for him.

When he pulled away, his eyes cast down, Taylor rubbed her hands over the knots in his shoulders. She wasn’t going to ask the obvious, instead letting him settle down for a moment on his own.

“Come in with me, okay?” she softly guided, relieved when she was met with a tiny nod and not a protest. “I’ll get you some tissues and a glass of water. Are you okay getting to my room on your own?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, his voice barely audible and breaking in the middle, as if he was about to burst into tears again.

“Take my hands, baby.”

With great care, Taylor helped Harry lift himself up, sliding her arm around his waist to steady him when he stood. Harry sniffed and cursed under his breath, struggling to hop through to her bedroom on his crutches with his shaky hands and watery eyes. Right then, he would’ve quite liked the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

As soon as he was safely down in bed with his pillow tucked under his head, Taylor rushed to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, grabbing a box of tissues on her way back. She instinctively left the lights off, sparing Harry any further humiliation. She walked around to the other side while Harry wiped at his face and blew his nose, louder than he really wanted it to be through the apartment’s silence.

Harry sighed when she settled on her side beside him, his eyes falling closed as her fingers slipped into his hair. Taylor stroked her fingers through soothingly, resting her other hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“You’re not sleeping well, are you?” she guessed, her heart breaking as he slightly shook his head. He napped plenty, especially since the doctor recommended it to help with his concussion, but full sleep was few and far between. She wished he would’ve opened up to her about it sooner.

“Just… remember more detail…” Harry mumbled, his bottom lip quivering and eyes welling with fresh tears. Taylor kept her fingers moving in his hair at a slow pace, relaxing him with something gentle and constant to focus on.

“Have you talked about it with anyone?”

“Not really…”

“Maybe you need to.”

Considering it, Harry reached for a new tissue to wipe under his nose. “You already know what happened…”

“Not in the way that you do.” In the dark, he couldn’t see the pleading in her eyes. “Talk to me. Please.”

He was never going to jump at the chance to relive that night. He was silent for a while, closing his eyes in contemplation. How was talking about it supposed to help him forget?

“I wish…” Harry eventually said slowly. “I wish I’d looked properly. Had my music not so loud. Something.”

“They came out of nowhere, Harry. I _know_ you looked before you crossed. I saw you.”

“Didn’t check well enough.”

“They skidded right around the corner. They had no control over the car. They just…”

They both knew what _they just._

Turning his head to her, Harry searched for her eyes, holding on securely. “You still see it too,” he realised, hit with a surge of guilt laced with anger over the unfairness of it all. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She merely brushed off his apology. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’d do anything for you not to have to go through this.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. It could’ve been anyone out there. If not you…”

Taylor swallowed. Even with the lack of light, her eyes had adjusted well enough for her to detect Harry’s studying stare. She could see him practically picking at her brain, reading her mind. She wished she hadn’t said anything.

“You think it should’ve been you?” he asked, appalled. _Bingo_. “That’s bullshit. No, Taylor, that’s _bullshit_. You’re too nice for your own good.”

Keeping quiet, she tried to hold back tears of her own. It was true. She knew how easily it could’ve been her the car crashed into. Harry was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t his fault. It really wasn’t Taylor’s, and yet she felt guilty for walking away without a scratch. She couldn’t explain it.

“Don’t think like that, okay? I know why you do, but please.” Harry rested his hand atop hers and a tear dripped down her cheek. God, when did _she_ become the one who needed comforting?

“I was so scared for you,” Taylor whispered, sniffing to get a hold of herself. “The way you hit the ground… And the blood… Did you feel anything?”

He nodded solemnly. “I didn’t black out ‘til I landed.”

“Oh my god,” she exhaled shakily. “I was hoping you would’ve just… missed that part.”

“I did. Sort of. When I woke up, I didn’t really… I remembered, but not like that? It wasn’t vivid.”

“But your dreams are…?”

“Like it happening again. And again. And again.”

Immediately Taylor sunk down to hug him, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close to his chest. She felt Harry sigh deeply underneath her, and she tried to focus as much positive energy as she could muster up into the hug. Harry deserved to be happy. For so many reasons, Harry was a good person, and he deserved not to be haunted by the wrong that had been done to him.

“You can stay in here with me from now on, if you think it’ll help,” she offered, sounding nowhere near as crazy as it had the first time she had made the suggestion.

“It does. Sort of. I like your company.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I didn’t want to intrude on you any more.”

“ _Harry._ ” Lifting her head, she found his gaze again. “We’re friends. Friends look out for each other.” He sniffled, and she went back to playing with his hair. “Do you trust me?”

“Course,” he answered without hesitation.

“You have a safe space here,” Taylor made sure he understood, as cheesy as it sounded. “You’re okay here with me. You’ve got me.”

“My angel,” he whispered, more like the Harry she knew.

Massaging his scalp, Taylor sighed, pressing her forehead against his. For closeness. In the emotion of the moment, she wasn’t thinking how easy it would be to kiss him like this.

“I wish they’d caught the assholes who did this. I wouldn’t mind hitting them with _my_ car and seeing how _they_ like it.”

Most surprisingly, the sound that came out of Harry resembled somewhat of a laugh. Small, not quite whole, but something.

“What?”

“Nothing. ‘s just. Revenge. How you said _assholes_.”

“Are you kidding me?” she said, pulling back to look at him properly again. “I just had to swear to get you to smile again?”

“Apparently.”

“Well, fuck.”

Harry let out a small stupid giggle, and a smile began to lift the corners of her own lips.

“Fuck,” she repeated playfully. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“ _Tay._ ”

“Would you want to get some _fucking revenge?”_

“Fuck yes,” he quickly agreed, perking up a bit. “We could pack up and go on the run. Like Bonnie and Clyde. _Taylor and Harry._ ”

“I can’t imagine you using a gun.”

“Well I can’t picture you using one either,” he huffed another laugh.

“I grew up on a farm,” she reminded him, as if that one fact meant she actually was experienced in firearms. “I could totally handle it. Plus, you know how I love my crime shows. I’d probably make a good felon.”

“No one would suspect a florist,” he agreed. “Might not be such a bad idea after all.”

It was, but it was nice to think of something lighter, something imaginary. It was nice to have stopped Harry’s tears.

“I think you should talk to your family tomorrow,” Taylor told him, shifting to seriousness again. “Skype your mom. Really _talk_ to her. I’m sure it’s hurting her being so far away right now.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.” As he pulled her in closer to him, she rested her head back on his chest, getting comfortable cuddling up to him. “You really mean a lot to me, you know? I’m really thankful for everything.”

“I know.” She squeezed him lightly. “I love having you here.”

His fingers grazed over a bare slice of skin on her hip where her top had ridden up and her eyes fluttered closed, feeling tingles she didn’t think she should’ve.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep okay?” she asked, and he bit down on his lip.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m staying right here, babe,” Taylor promised him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry was quieter over the next few days. He seemed to have given up on trying to pretend everything was alright all of the time and he looked… well, _hurt_. Like a kicked puppy with his floppy hair and his big green eyes always seeking approval.

He had settled into sleeping in her room, but the inflatable mattress was still set up in the lounge just in case he changed his mind. Judging by the way he made sure she kept near him in the night, it didn’t seem likely he was going to.

In the hopes of perking him up, Taylor brought him fresh flowers (both for him to draw and to admire), baked him chocolate chip cookies and cooked him dinners he especially liked, and offered to take him out the apartment wherever he liked. He didn’t feel up to it, which wasn’t the best sign. She was tempted to take him to see a doctor, but she didn’t think springing that on him would go down well.

When she came home just after midday after her morning shift later in the week to find Harry lounged out on the floor trying to play fetch with Olivia, she believed that time really was going to be the best healer.

“You should’ve seen her catch one of these!” Harry grinned as she walked in, rolling another cat treat around in his hand. “She jumped so high, it was amazing.”

“Are you fattening up my babies?” Taylor teased, eyeing the open bag of treats he had lying within his reach. She flashed him a friendly smile, setting her bag down on the table and stepping out of her heels in relief. While she hadn’t had a particularly long day, she was glad to be able to spend the rest of it relaxing after the early wake up call to open the shop.

“If you don’t want them to eat them, you shouldn’t have bought them,” he quipped, shifting his gaze back to the cat in front of him and tossing another fish-shaped treat up in the air. Olivia, patiently waiting, suddenly leapt up and caught it easily in her mouth with perfect reflexes, earning an enthusiastic cheer from Harry. He was in a good mood, and it instantly spread to Taylor.

“She does it again! She’s a legend. Aren’t you, Liv?”

He held his hand out for a high five that went expectedly ignored, Olivia simply sitting back down as she chewed on her reward. He was unperturbed; maybe he could teach her how to do that trick sometime.

“Where’s Mere?” Taylor asked as she moved to the kitchen to inspect their lunch options, hoping she wouldn’t need to make another trip out for anything.

“I don’t think she liked the game. Liv didn’t mind running for the treats, but Meredith gave me one of those death stares. I think she just wanted them without the effort. Don’t blame her, really.”

Shaking her head, Taylor smiled as she peered into the fridge. She really did love her pets, was glad that they were around to keep Harry company while she was out, too.

“Have you eaten?”

“No. I was kind of hoping you would have something planned,” Harry smiled sheepishly, and she had to laugh.

“I told you I saved the leftover pasta for you! There’s not enough for the both of us.”

“Sorry. I can eat cat treats, if you want. I wonder what they taste like.” He grabbed another out the bag, gaining Olivia’s attention as he inspected it between his thumb and forefinger. He went to sniff it and for a second, she thought he was actually going to pop it into his mouth for a taste.

“Don’t eat those! Oh my god, that’s disgusting,” Taylor exclaimed, wrinkling her nose at the sheer thought. Over all the years of serving cat food, she couldn’t say she had had the urge to test what cat cuisine was really like. Then again, she wasn’t a boy – lord knows what goes through their heads.

Doing as he was told, he quickly threw the treat up, grinning as Olivia jumped again, her precise attention giving her perfect timing. “I’m not too fussed. What’ve we got?”

“Well, you could still have the pasta. We’ve always got stuff for sandwiches, um… two-minute noodles… chicken tenders–”

“I want chicken,” he announced, sounding like an eager kid, at least remembering to add, “Please?”

They ate together sitting on the floor, Taylor crossing her legs while Harry remained stretched out with his cast propped up on a pillow as usual, saving him from having to move. They tried not to drop too many crumbs as they chewed on their chicken and salad rolls, but Olivia still sniffed around to see if there was any more food for her, bless her.

“You look really nice today,” Harry complimented, smiling at her with his characteristic kindness she had come to thoroughly adore. “The red lipstick always suits you. ‘s like, the perfect red for your complexion.”

“Maybe I should bring you along next time I want to buy a new lipstick, since you clearly know your colours.”

He playfully flicked her knee and Taylor just grinned. Their teasing was one of her favourite parts of their friendship. It had come so naturally, like they really _got_ each other. If their circumstance was different, she was sure they still would’ve become fast friends with their compatible personalities (and star signs, she was embarrassed to say she had looked up).

“D’you feel like modelling for me?” he asked casually, unmistakable hopefulness tinging his tone. “I wouldn’t mind doing some drawing today. A lovely model would help.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t going to say no. She quite liked being one of his subjects, actually. At least it wasn’t too hard a task to sit still for a while.

“I suppose I could,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I had an idea, actually. If you’re okay with it.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Taylor raised her brow at him with intrigue. Looking at his work, she knew he loved working with bodies, but he had never pressured her into doing anything she wasn’t comfortable with. It could’ve been anything.

“You know, um,” he finally continued, his gaze down as he pushed crumbs around on his plate, always itching to create something, however small. “D’you have any of those, um. Those soft bras that are like, um, lace? Sometimes. Not always. Um. D’you know what I mean?”

Oh god, his nervousness was so fucking adorable, Taylor wanted to cup his face and kiss him all over.

“Yes,” she smiled at him, leaning forward yet refusing to give into temptation to touch him. “And yeah, I have a few.”

Harry glanced back up at her, relieved to find that she didn’t seemed deterred by his dithering idea. “Would you be okay, um, wearing one for me? I know you’re not interested in, like, my classes, but. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure,” she decided breezily. It wasn’t like it was much different from wearing a bikini, anyway, was it? If going swimming was an option for him, she would totally wear a bikini in front of him. No big deal. “I can show you what I’ve got and you can pick?”

Okay, showing him her underwear kind of _was_ a big deal, but if it would lift his spirits, then what the hey? He only wanted to draw her, anyway.

Ducking into her room, Taylor rummaged around her top drawer to collect her favourite bralettes; she didn’t have many, but at least they were cute. She loved a lot of lace, some articles smaller than others, and when she spread them out across the floor in front of Harry, she noticed the way his eyes widened over the more delicate options. Had she surprised him? Just wait until he saw them on.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck apprehensively, mulling over what he thought was the most appropriate thing to decide on. He _wanted_ to pick the tiny black number she had admittedly bought on flirty impulse, but he thought it a bit much to ask her to expose most of her breasts through the sparse lace on their first time. Instead, he pointed safely at a pretty white one with better coverage.

“Do you mind that I don’t have a matching set?” she checked as she bundled the small garments back up.

“You can just wear shorts or something if you’d be more comfortable; I don’t mind,” he brushed her off, though judging by his inability to look her in the eye, he really wanted to see her in as little as possible. Wow.

Taylor didn’t rush to change, giving Harry plenty of time to set up his materials. She slipped out of her dress and into the bra he’d chosen, inspecting her reflection in the mirror before she even dared to walk back out. Her pale pink panties didn’t entirely match, but together they made for a pretty set. Taylor didn’t really think she could pull off sexy, but pretty? She _owned_ pretty.

It was on a whim that she decided she didn’t need to wear anything else for him (after she decided that she definitely looked okay first, of course). As soon as Harry glanced up at her when she returned to the lounge, he dropped the piece of charcoal in his hand, his face flushing as he scrambled to pick it back up. God, he was cute. So fucking cute.

“How do you want me?” Taylor asked, and she didn’t really _mean_ to sound flirty, but she was in nothing but her underwear and her voice just naturally lilted into seduction. Could she really be blamed?

Harry could argue that she could, considering his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink over whatever image it conjured up in his head. “Could you just, um, sit by the plant over there?” he directed with a vague point of his hand, barely glancing up from the piece of paper he had taken out to warm up on.

Instead of quipping that he was going to have to be more specific, Taylor paraded over in the right direction, Harry sneaking a peek at her mile-long legs as she passed. She sat down on the floor in front of the potted fiddle leaf figs and jasmines that were set up by the wall, watching curiously as he focused back on his paper instead of giving her any more instructions right away. She stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, hoping that she didn’t look ridiculous like this after all.

After going through some freeform sketching to loosen up, Harry set the paper aside and opened to a blank page in his sketchbook. He finally looked over at her then, seeming more composed as he tilted his head. “Can you sit, like… relaxed? Relax your legs. Yeah, like that. Maybe… lean on one hand? Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

_Perfect_. That certainly gave Taylor a burst of confidence.

They fell into their usual silence as Harry slipped into his creative concentration. Taylor watched him while he glanced routinely at her, his careful studying gaze one she found fascinating. It was strange to have a guy look at her when she was dressed like this and not have him purely rating her attractiveness. Harry was appreciating her. He was gazing over the shape of her, completely mesmerised. There were moments she worried he might be picking out flaws – Were her boobs big enough? Did her thighs look okay how she was sitting? Could he spot any stretch marks? – but when Harry occasionally gave a little smile to himself, he didn’t seem mocking. Rather, he seemed… _awestruck_.

Surely he had drawn more attractive women. Surely he had drawn gorgeous girls who were actually real models. New York was crawling with incredibly beautiful people. She was hardly outstanding.

But to Harry, she was… well, she was an angel.

“You can take a break, you know,” Harry told her softly, offering her a kind smile. It had been nearly twenty minutes and Taylor’s hand had fallen asleep where she had been leaning on it, but she hadn’t wanted to break his focus. He knew she could sit back in almost exactly the same position and remain still, a talent she didn’t even realise she had, so he didn’t really mind her getting up to stretch every now and then.

Taylor grabbed cookies for the both of them and shook out her hand to regain feeling. Oddly enough, she felt more self-conscious wandering around in her underwear than she did when she sat with him staring at her. It wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t wearing much either, but he was in a relaxed tank top and shorts, trying to keep cool with the summer sun bringing in heat through the windows. They had a fan on, but not too close so as not to send all of his papers flying. How he was managing with his surely sweaty cast on, she hadn’t a clue, but she poured him a cold glass of water to make sure he stayed hydrated.

“Can I take a picture of you?” Harry asked when she returned to her pose, giving him permission on the grounds that he promised he wouldn’t send it around to anyone. He didn’t seem like one of those assholes, but you could never be too careful.

“You look like an underwear model,” he thought as he inspected the photo he snapped on his phone, and Taylor gave a deprecating laugh.

“Just because I’m in my underwear, doesn’t make that true.”

“No, you’re really photogenic. And you’ve obviously got the body.”

“Obviously?” she repeated doubtfully.

“Yeah.” Harry glanced up at her, frowning a little, scratching his head. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he only turned back to his drawing and used his forefinger to smudge one of his lines.

Taylor faded out into her own fantasy while Harry continued his portrait. She imagined doing this for him regularly, donning a series of sexy lingerie as his favourite model. She imagined being repaid with heavy affection, for being so irresistibly stunning as she posed in all sorts of ways, part in thanks to her flexible yoga-trained limbs. It was a ridiculous indulgence, one she had to force herself out of when she realised how much heat was building between her thighs. The last thing she needed was for Harry to notice that her panties were getting a little… _wet_.

She managed to cleanse her thoughts before Harry finished his drawing, thank god. Harry did his usual analysing before he finally looked up at her with a smile, gesturing her over with a toss of his head. Taylor crawled over to him on her hands and knees, god knows why, and he tried to be subtle in the way his eyes followed the perfect view of her breasts.

Plopping down beside him, Harry tensed a little at how close she was as she peered at the sketchbook in his lap. Taylor was in awe of how smoothly he captured her body, the softness of her curves, the shadows he smudged in perfectly. He never put in a great deal of detail into faces when drawing like this, using a thinner charcoal pencil to add in what he needed. She loved how he’d done her hair, actually, emphasising the waves in her tamed bob with heavier strokes. Then there was the care he had taken in shaping her delicate bralette, which was… well. It was intriguing to see the way someone else really saw her.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked her quietly.

“You’re so talented,” Taylor spoke with reverence, lightly running her finger over the blank edge of the page. He’d vaguely sketched in the plants in the background, and it seemed very fitting to be exposing part of herself with her passion right there with her. She loved it.

“You inspire me,” he almost whispered, blushing a little. When Taylor glanced at him, her heart melted. He was so fucking cute. He was quite possibly the cutest boy she had ever met; she couldn’t believe he was here with her.

“Oh,” she smiled softly. Coming from an artist, it was a huge compliment, one she greatly appreciated. To inspire him to create something beautiful was a great honour.

Harry went quiet again, picking up a piece of charcoal and signing his initials at the bottom of the page routinely. He put it back down, rubbing his blackened fingertips together. He tended to be a bit fidgety, actually. His artistic hands were always itching for something to do.

He subtly side eyed her, a shy smile giving a small lift to his lips. He held a nervousness that wasn’t simply from having a beautiful underwear-clad woman sitting beside him; it was something more than that, something Taylor hadn’t been expecting.

When he finally looked at her properly again, Harry’s gaze drifted first from her lips up to her eyes. Then, in such a sweetly soft voice, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Taylor’s heart leapt. Harry’s captivating green eyes were locked on hers and full of hope, brimming with unmistakable affection. He looked so positively adorable, with his lightly pinkened cheeks and his surely pounding heart, praying that she would say yes.

No guy had ever asked if he could kiss her before. As a handsome twenty-year-old, Harry shouldn’t have really had anything to worry about – there were definitely plenty of girls who would be more than willing to kiss him. But here he was, seeking permission, impossibly gentlemanly. The fact that he had thought to ask instead of simply going for it on self-confident assumption meant a great deal to Taylor’s inner romantic, more than he could quite understand.

At a loss for words at such an endearing surprise, Taylor nodded with an excited little smile.

Kissing Harry was wonderfully tender. He pressed his lips to hers with measured care, not too forceful nor too light. His lips were as soft as she had expected, his mouth warm and inviting. It gave Taylor a lovely fluttering sensation, flooding her with a sense of utter adoration.

The feeling was much stronger than she had been anticipating, and Taylor involuntarily sighed when they parted. When she opened her eyes, she found Harry gazing at her intensely, mystified. _So he’d felt it too._

With her hand sliding to the back of his neck, Taylor didn’t hesitate to pull him back in. She kissed him with a quiet confidence, amazed when Harry’s lips parted slightly and the gentlest sound slipped through. Oh my god, kissing Harry was marvellous.

It only deepened as Taylor inched closer, resting her other hand on his jaw as they slowly ran tongues along lips and brushed them against each other. Soft and warm, sparkling and thrilling, she wanted to stay like this forever.

“ _Wow_ ,” Taylor airily exhaled when they did break apart for breath, making Harry’s wondrous smile widen.

“Wow, indeed,” he agreed, lightly nudging his knuckles against her bare thigh. Immediately she wanted his hands all over her, the thought making her giddy with anticipation.

“I need to, um.” He laughed a little as he held his hand up, wiggling his charcoal-smudged fingers. “Don’t want to get this all over you.”

Giggling, Taylor gave him another kiss, lighter this time. “Wait here.”

Harry watched with a dancing heart as Taylor skipped off, disappearing into the bathroom where she ran a cloth under the tap, squeezing out most of the water so it wouldn’t drip all the way back. Perhaps it would’ve been easier for him to scrub his hands clean in there himself, but she was saving him the effort of getting up this way.

She saved him the effort altogether as she sat back down beside him, taking his hand and slowly rubbing each blackened finger with the small face towel. She took her time with each finger until she was satisfied they were clean of the drawing substance, Harry chewing down on his lip as he watched on. Perhaps it was the care she was taking, but he was, not for the first time, feeling something he shouldn’t.

“Thank you,” he said quietly when she finally set the towel aside. He wiped his hands dry on his shorts, nudging the sketchbook he had moved off his lap a little further away.

Taylor took the next chance when he looked at her again, leaning in to reconnect their lips. Scooting closer, she wrapped her arms around him, sighed into his mouth when he rested his hands on her bare skin too. Her fingers tangled, gently, in his hair, her teeth grazing over his tongue as it found its way into her mouth. She didn’t so much care whether perhaps he thought her a bit too forward – she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and since the line had been crossed, she didn’t see fault in trying to get it.

Of course, Harry wasn’t worried about that. He was too busy being entirely astounded that she actually was interested in him, broken leg and all. His hands roamed with respectful caution, keeping to her back, her waist, her thighs. He didn’t want to ask too much too soon, not even as she seemed clearly enlivened as she shifted herself up onto his lap, their torsos flush as she tried to avoid hitting the top of his cast a few inches back.

It barely took long for Taylor to feel Harry stiffen underneath her. She didn’t at all blame him: their kisses were avidly intense and she was more aroused than she had been in a long time. Feeling him underneath her did nothing to calm her, either. He was covered by his boxers and shorts, but that didn’t hide that he didn’t seem, well, _small_.

When they messily broke apart a wonderful while later, lips having swollen from the thorough attention, it was so Harry could trail his mouth along her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He had Taylor melting as he reached her neck, moaning softly as he focused on the sensitive skin. Her back arched so her body pressed closer against his, chest rising temptingly. Harry stole a quick glance, kissing as far down her décolletage as he could manage in their position.

Taylor was rocking her hips just slightly against his, vying for the friction her body was begging for. It pleased her, and it certainly pleased him – a low whine escaped him and he squeezed her hips tightly, fingertips pressing firmly into her bare skin. He lifted his head, smiling such a purely excited smile.

“You’re going to have to stop that,” Harry murmured, his voice taking on a thick tone of charming seduction. He kissed below her earlobe, not appearing to want to stop at all.

“And what if I don’t?” Taylor flirted back, twisting a lock of his hair at the nape of his neck around her finger. She felt comfortable with him, though considering her dress, that wasn’t surprising to hear: she wouldn’t be like this if she weren’t. There was something about him that set her at ease.

Harry laughed warmly in her ear, sliding his hands around her back in a hug. “You tease,” he said lightly, nuzzling against her neck.

“Maybe,” she replied guiltily, smiling as he pressed his lips to her skin again.

“I didn’t want to make things awkward between us,” he then said after a moment or so, airing a thought she had had herself.

Taylor didn’t respond immediately, thinking it over. “Does this feel awkward to you?”

“No,” he chuckled without hesitation. “’cept my leg, a bit.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Taylor let her usually-hidden confidence take control. After all, what was the worst that could happen? They deserved some fun.

“I’ll make you forget all about that,” she purred, pushing him down onto his back and doing just that.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Sunday was the perfect summer day. After their routine morning yoga session, Taylor and Selena jumped back into the air-conditioned car and headed in search of the sand. They went to their favourite beach an hour or so’s drive away, lathering themselves up in sunscreen before bounding into the ocean, the water offering a cool relief to their bare skin that had heated in the short time they’d taken to get from the car to a free spot on the sand.

There were plenty of other people around, families and friends all looking for a fun way to get a reprieve from the heat. Really, there was no better place to be than in the water, floating and splashing and diving. It was the perfect way to spend the freedom of a hot summer day.

The girls retreated rather reluctantly to their towels when they grew too hungry. Armed with burgers and cold Cokes from a local café, they shaded their eyes with their sunglasses as they chowed down on their not-so-healthy lunch. Neither particularly cared; they’d both done their good for the day, anyway, and the cheesy burgers smelled _really_ good.

“You’re _so_ glowing,” Selena teased between bites, tossing her dark tresses over her shoulder, falling in thick wet strands down her bare back.

“Am I burning?” Taylor misunderstood, touching her hand to her nose. With her pale skin, she always had to be careful in the sun, unless she wanted to end up looking like a lobster. Not exactly an ideal look.

“No,” Selena laughed, bumping her knee against hers. “I mean, you look really happy.”

The colour that rose to Taylor’s cheeks was not from the sun. She couldn’t hide behind her sunglasses (her favourite cat’s eye frames), but with Selena, she didn’t really care. She’d told her all about what had happened with Harry, probed out of more details than she would otherwise go into. It was exciting having something like that to talk about again, actually. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed all the wonderful things that came with being with someone until now, girl talk included.

Not that anything with Harry was official, of course. They’d only kissed, a lot, quite heavily, but nothing more, despite how much they wanted to. Taylor wasn’t typically one to take things too fast, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. Rather, he seemed to be delighted to be able to kiss her at all. It was kind of astounding, really.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Taylor tried shrugging it off, her smile betraying her. She _was_ happy. She was so over the moon about having her feelings reciprocated again.

“Not a big deal? Babe, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been this excited about a boy before.”

“Am I crazy?”

“No! Babe, this is amazing for you! He sounds so into you. If he could walk, he’d be tripping over his own feet at the sight of you.”

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Taylor burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand to try to stop herself. “Sel, oh my god. You can’t say that.”

“What? It’s true,” she playfully grinned.

“He has a broken leg!”

“It’s not stopping him from trying to get between yours.”

A group of guys walking past a few feet away eyed them appreciatively as they descended into loud, ridiculous giggles. The pair were a head-turning sight in their cute bikinis covering their healthy figures, though neither of them particularly noticed the attention they received.

“Really, is it crazy?” Taylor asked again when she regained her composure.

“Honestly? I’m surprised you managed to last a month without anything happening between you two,” Selena said, earning a thump to the arm with Taylor’s small fist. “He’s hot! If it were me, I would’ve made the most of it way before now.”

Taylor decided to keep the one fear that kept bugging her – what Harry healing and inevitably leaving would mean for them – to herself for now.

“You should go to his next class,” Selena suggested, and Taylor’s eyes enlarged behind her sunglasses.

“God, no. I’m no artist, and there’s no way I’m stripping down in front of a bunch of strangers.”

“What about for one friend?”

She had to admit, she _had_ thought about it, but it was ridiculous, surely. How could she work up the nerve to be analysed completely bare?

“You’re thinking about it!” Selena accused gleefully, the blonde’s cheeks reddening once more.

“I trust him, it’s just… what if he shows someone?”

“Then we’ll go to some boxing classes so we can kick his ass. Once he can walk, obviously.”

Smiling again, Taylor shook her head. Her hair was already drying and she hated to think what unruly curly state it was in.

“This is insane, but I think it’s kind of… romantic,” she admitted, immediately hiding her face behind her hands. “Like, back when people always painted portraits and wrote love letters. Women wore corsets and elaborate gowns and men were gentlemen and courted women and it was all… _terribly romantic_.”

They both laughed at Taylor’s awful attempt at an English accent. Just as well she didn’t do it in front of Harry – he wouldn’t let that poor attempt go easily.

“Sometimes I think you were born in the wrong era,” Selena smiled affectionately. Considering Taylor was sitting in a pinstripe bikini with high-waisted bottoms, it wasn’t an outlandish comment to make. She had always been wise yet whimsical, dreaming of a time where true love was real and lasting.

“I just hate to think what my mom would say, y’know?”

“At least it’s a step up from sending naked pictures of yourself. Or is it a step back? Like the Victorian-era equivalent?”

While Selena contemplated this, Taylor took a sip of her Coke, condensation dripping down the bottle onto her fingers. She’d finished most of it and she was considering getting another – or at least a chilled bottle of water. Anything to keep cool and hydrated.

“Anyway, it’s not that bad. You’re gorgeous, Tay, you should flaunt it instead of shying away all the time, if you really trust him. How many guys are you gonna meet that want to spend every hour of every day painting you?”

Probably not many. This was New York, though – the city was bursting with creatives. She hadn’t expected to meet Harry, especially not the way she had. Anything was possible.

“He likes charcoal,” Taylor replied needlessly.

“I don’t wanna know what he does with all those nude drawings,” Selena said, making Taylor’s eyes widen again at the unexpected and quite unnecessary image.

“Oh my god. He’s not like that.”

“Oh, please. He’s a guy – I’m surprised you haven’t walked in on him with his hand down his pants already. _Ooh, Taylor!”_ she whined jokingly, Taylor playfully slapping her thigh. Neither of them needed to think about that. Regardless of what they were, that would just be awkward – especially if it was the other way around. Taylor didn’t think she would ever live down that kind of embarrassment.

“I can’t even with you,” Taylor grinned and shook her head, pushing herself up and rising to her feet.

“You’re only proving my point,” Selena insisted as the blonde pranced off on her long, toned legs, looking as much like a supermodel as Harry seemed to think she was.

The girls hung around for a couple more hours, returning to the water for a refreshing splash around until their fingertips wrinkled and they tired. They treated themselves to ice cream cones and sat together on a park bench under a tree, enjoying the decline in temperature and the few admiring glances they got in their suits. It was a perfect girls’ day out, one they both needed.

When Taylor dropped Selena back off at her apartment block, sand inevitably sprinkled across the interior of the car despite their efforts to shake themselves off, Selena smiled teasingly as she bid her goodbye with a cheeky, “Go home to lover boy.” Taylor rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t glad to be going home to someone she cared for.

After the bustle of the beach on a hot weekend, it was contrastingly silent back in her apartment. _Lover boy_ was lounged out on the couch as he so often was, though he was lacking a pencil and paper or a movie on TV. Instead, he had his headphones in and he was asleep in what looked to be peace, a welcomed sight. He was getting better rest in a proper bed, the inflatable mattress now all packed up, but he was yet to attain his regular resting patterns. He’d stumbled across a sleep sounds playlist that was helping, though, so perhaps it wouldn’t be long until he was alright again.

Taylor tried her best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb him, especially when she didn’t know how long he’d been out. She tiptoed around, deciding she couldn’t put off the much-needed shower; there was sand in unmentionable places that was growing more uncomfortable the longer it lingered. Hopefully, with his mellow music on, Harry wouldn’t even notice.

She thoroughly shampooed her hair, relieved to have the sunscreen and salt scrubbed off her skin. She had managed to avoid any dreaded sunburn, yet her skin felt tight thanks to all the hours spent outdoors. A good lathering of aloe lotion did the trick to cure that.

It was silly, but she found herself studying her reflection again while she had the privacy. As she massaged moisturiser over her breasts, Taylor debated whether she really was enough to sit bare for Harry. While she could gracefully accept compliments, it wasn’t so easy to believe them as truth. Was she really as attractive as people told her? Her teenage insecurities declared a hard _no_.

Although, she had to admit, she had improved since her teens. She wasn’t quite so lanky, and she was aware of what kind of clothes she could rock. It wasn’t all bad.

Harry was still asleep when she crept out the bathroom in fresh clothes, and Taylor kept quiet as she left her beachwear in the laundry to be washed. She slipped into her bedroom, relaxing out on her bed as she returned to the book she was currently reading, a quiet activity after her eventful day.

She heard Harry before she saw him. After a short while, Taylor made out the sounds of him fumbling in the next room, then the familiar click of crutches against the wooden floorboards. He appeared in the doorway, peering around.

“You’re back,” he smiled sleepily, his voice soft. His hair was sticking out at odd ends from where he’d been laying, and he looked adorable. Totally adorable. “Gimme a sec.”

There was more clicking as he went to the bathroom (his original destination), and Taylor returned her bookmark to her new page, setting it back aside on the nightstand. Harry hobbled back and got himself comfortable on the bed with her, smiling as she shuffled closer.

“Did you sleep okay?” Taylor asked him, unable to stop from running her hand through his messy curls. His shoulders relaxed at the action, and she couldn’t help her smile.

“Yeah, ‘s alright. Just needed a bit of a nap,” he said. He looked more rested, which she was more than happy to see. As much as he didn’t want her to, she couldn’t help her worry.

“Are you getting enough?”

“’m alright, love. ‘s not like I’m up all night. How about you? Are you doing alright?”

“Of course. Yeah, I mean, it’s not all sunshine 24/7, but I’m okay. I sleep fine.”

Better now that she had him safely beside her, but she wasn’t going to mention that.

“Alright. Just, you know, you went through something too.” He shrugged a little. He kissed the back of her lingering hand, wanting to move on. “How was your day?”

“A lot of fun. I could do with a nap myself,” she smiled at him, friendly. The sea air and the physical exertion tended to tire her out.

Leaning a little closer, Harry lowered his voice. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’m getting hungry and wouldn’t mind tea soon.”

Taylor laughed, lightly pushing his chest. “You’re capable of fending for yourself!”

“Minor details,” he grinned cheekily, and she leaned in to kiss him, slow and sweet. It brought him the same gorgeous, amazed smile as it was proving to always bring, and Taylor’s heart warmed just the same.

“We should go to the beach when you get your cast off,” she suggested.

“Not too long now,” he said happily, giving his cast a trusty pat. While he had grown used to it – well, as much as he could – he was eager to be free of it. It wasn’t the most comfortable, especially in summer. “’s gonna be great. Think of all the stuff we’ll be able to do.”

Actually, she had been trying _not_ to conjure up too many imaginings of what could happen next between them, in case it didn’t work out. Taylor wasn’t very good at withholding that kind of hope, though, and she grinned at him now, joyous as he gave her another kiss.

God, Harry was going to be hard to shake.

“What do you want for dinner?” Taylor giggled when she heard his tummy rumble, making him blush a little.

“Whatever we’ve got,” he replied easily, kissing her again to hide his embarrassment.

“I could do the pasta you like? That won’t take too long.”

“Oh, yes, please!”

His excitement had her grinning, and as she tried to lazily hop over him to get off the bed, Harry caught her with a quick hook of his arm around her waist, pulling her down on his lap. Taylor giggled girlishly, his lips finding her neck to pepper her with kisses.

“I thought you wanted something to eat,” she reminded him, as if she wanted him to stop.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, resisting the urge to make any indecent remarks by planting another kiss to her lips. His hand ran down her back when he let her go, smoothly sliding over her ass and making her wish she had remained on his lap for a little more after all.

Taylor moved to the kitchen, setting about preparing their dinner. The last time she had made carbonara for him, Harry had eagerly eaten the majority of it, even the few leftovers she had been hoping to take to work for lunch. Apparently she achieved the perfect creaminess, a compliment she humbly accepted.

Lacking in all the ingredients, though, she made sure Harry kept an eye on the linguine she had set to boil while she quickly popped out to pick up a jar of cream and a rasher of bacon from the closest grocery. It didn’t take long, and Harry occasionally glanced at her from his spot back on the sofa as she continued cooking. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and the meal she heartily prepared soon left him happily sated.

“I made extra, y’know,” Taylor let him know with a smile after delivering him seconds, catching a glint in his eyes.

“You’re a legend, Tay.”

She certainly felt quite satisfied when they retreated to the couch. It had been a good day, and she was contented as she tucked herself up under Harry’s open arm. With the fan on, they didn’t get too hot in their close proximity.

“Would you mind taking me to the art store sometime? I’ve only got one canvas left,” he asked her when the show they were watching went to a commercial break. “Could do with a new yellow ochre, too. All the green in here’s got me running low, same with my cool blue.”

Taylor circled her index finger over his thigh where his shorts (not all that long to begin with) had ridden up when he sat down. “Sure. What are you gonna use your last one for?”

“Dunno. I wanted to do something with it this weekend, just didn’t really know what.”

“Paint me,” Taylor told him jokingly, and Harry gave her a playful smile in return.

“Oh, I’d love to pin you to the wall, angel,” he flirted, smirking as her first reaction was to kiss him. Seriously, he added, “Would you really want to sit for me like that? It takes a couple hours.”

“Yeah, if you’d want me to.”

His green eyes sparkled. “Course I do. I’d love to paint you.”

“Anytime, babe.”

As she turned her attention back to the television, Harry’s mind swirled with creative possibility. His focus vanished, his eyes glazing over as he got lost in thought. Taylor didn’t notice, not until five minutes or so later when he suddenly clicked his fingers.

“Have you got any candles?” he asked abruptly, and she looked at him questioningly as she gave a slow nod.

“Some scented ones, yeah. I think I’ve still got some tea lights left, too.”

“Perfect,” he said, nodding approvingly as she aided whatever idea had come to his mind. “Perfect lighting. Just need…” He looked off distractedly as he formulated his concept, Taylor glancing at him curiously. She had seen this look before and it always left her intrigued. She was a creative, too, yet she still wondered how his mind worked.

“Are you alright to do it now?” he finally thought to ask, resuming consciousness as he turned his head back to her. “You’re not too tired or anything?”

“I think I can manage sitting still for a while,” she agreed, not really wanting to ruin the spark he had suddenly gained, the very one she had lit.

“Perfect,” he repeated. “Could you get the candles? I’ll start setting up.”

Taylor went in search of her candles, picking out all of her vanilla ones so as not to mix scents. She loved a good scented candle; they were a wonderful addition to a room. She always had some on hand, thanks to her love of perusing candle shops with their enticing smells.

With a bit of help, Harry transported into the bedroom with his box of paints and an array of different sized brushes. Taylor moved one of the dining chairs in for him to sit on, positioned by the edge of the bed. She got another for him to rest his things on, his paints and palette and cup of water. He set up his easel on yet another, wishing he had his larger free-standing one with him; it would’ve been much easier to set up. His 14x18 inch canvas would’ve sat nicer on it, too.

He directed her around to where he liked the candles to be positioned, moving some around as per his request. She switched off the remaining lights, letting the candlelight provide the perfect ambiance. Just how he was picturing it.

There was some deliberation with how he wanted her to pose, though. After requesting she change into black underwear, privately in another room, he got her to relax out, and as sexy as she looked lying on her bed, there was something not quite right, something not quite aligning with the vision in his head.

Tapping the end of a paintbrush on his chin, Harry contemplated it, getting her to shift a little to her left.

“Maybe I’m not the right model for this,” Taylor began to think with the longer he took to debate the scene he’d created.

“No, no, no!” Harry was quick to reassure her. “It’s not you, it’s… I feel like something’s missing? I don’t know.”

It wasn’t that she was too tense. She had spent the day frolicking about in a bikini – she was fine sitting in her underwear with a (more than?) friend. Suddenly, an awful thought occurred to her: what if something wasn’t _missing_ , but rather there was something _too much?_

Taylor could scarcely believe the words leaving her mouth as she said, “Did you… Would it work better if I took this off?”

Harry was clearly taken aback by her suggestion as well. His eyes widened, brows rising, and he subtly glanced down at her chest. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I trust you,” she said with certainty, the realisation of just how true it was hitting her as the words left her lips. She had trusted him from the very start – it had only grown over the weeks they had spent together. He hadn’t given her a reason not to.

“Well, um, only if you’re sure,” he said, actually sounding a little nervous. “I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to.”

“I don’t.” Sitting up, she reached behind her back, hesitating as her fingers found the clasp of her bra. Could she really do this?

“You’re not going to show anyone, are you?” she needed to check.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Harry promised. “It can just stay between us, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“It would,” she sighed in relief, glad he was as understanding as she hoped he would be.

With all the impulsive courage she was suddenly fuelled with, Taylor unhooked her bra before she had the chance to change her mind. She shrugged the straps off and tossed it across the bed out of the way.

The room filled with silence in the moment after. Taylor was trying not to think too hard about what was running through Harry’s head, while Harry’s breathing had hitched and he was struggling to focus on the reason she was topless in the first place. Their eyes locked, and a shy smile twitched at his lips.

“Is this better?” Taylor asked softly as she resumed her last pose leaning back against the pillows.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Harry blurted out, smile widening truthfully. He cursed again as he set his palette in his lap, beginning to sort out the paint colours he required.

Fucking gorgeous, huh? Taylor couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the sound of that. While he got himself ready, she friskily ran a hand over her bare breast, feeling the soft plump skin underneath. Harry noticed her movement and glanced up, face flushing and a paint tube slipping out of his grasp. He fumbled to catch it before it fell to the floor and rolled away, Taylor smirking a little. It was nice not to be the only one who was nervous.

It actually wasn’t as awkward as she had always thought it would be. Once she settled into her quite comfortable pose, she was rather contented. The blankets were soft underneath her bare skin, and the temperature was perfect for lounging around in next to nothing. Harry’s stare didn’t terrify her, and as minutes passed, her concern slipped away; there was a very good chance she could fall asleep after all.

Harry started with a rough pencil sketch on the canvas, drafting his dimensions before he dipped a brush into paint. He tried his best to look at her artistically and not with the tremendous attraction that was pulsing inside him, though his gaze held an extra intensity that wasn’t usually there that Taylor could pick up on even despite the distance between them. It was giving her the confidence she thought she needed, but in truth, she _did_ want to strip down for him, whether in this setting or not. She wanted to give him everything she had, the feeling having multiplied ever since they had first kissed.

Harry’s distraction didn’t hinder his talent. Even with the temptation that was constantly coursing through him, he made meticulous brush strokes, taking care with the shades he mixed, occasionally spritzing his canvas with a little bottle of solvent to keep his acrylics workable. After years of painting, his hand knew exactly how to move, exactly how to create shape and shadow. How he managed to do so without perfect light, she hadn’t any idea; even without seeing his progress, she was impressed.

After a half hour or so, Taylor was released to stretch – or rather, clean out the murky water in his cup and replace it with a fresh glass. As she went over to collect it, careful of the paintbrushes dipped inside ready to be rinsed, she couldn’t help but notice the quite clear thick line in his shorts and the way Harry couldn’t look at her as she got closer.

Taylor strutted out with a spring in her step, rather pleased with herself as she tipped the dirty water down the sink and refilled the cup, washing each of his brushes for him until the water ran clean.

When she walked back into her room within minutes, she almost dropped it all on the floorboards.

Holy shit. Harry was still sitting in the chair, only now with his hand in a rather compromising position. Because of _her_.

As soon as he realised she had returned, Harry froze. His face burned as she set his things back on the other chair, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would erase his poor decision not to wait or at least find privacy first. Undeterred, Taylor, moving behind him, ran her hands down his chest, not feeling the awkwardness he naturally assumed she must.

“’m not normally like this,” he squeaked, struck with a fresh wave of embarrassment.

“Like what?” she asked, nuzzling against his neck as she detected his racing heart under her hand. She knew exactly what he meant.

“ _This_ ,” he replied desperately, mumbling, “’s not like class.”

“What’s different?”

“’m not normally so attracted to the model.”

As his words settled, Taylor’s hand dipped lower down his torso. She grabbed his wrist, overcome with a sense of power she hadn’t had in a long time.

“Let me help,” she purred in his ear, cheekily nipping his lobe. It earnt her a gentle groan reverberating in his throat.

“You don’t have to.”

“Would you rather I watch, then?”

Holy shit. Teasing Taylor had certainly come out to play, and poor sweet twenty-year-old Harry was rendered utterly helpless.

With surprising ease, Taylor tugged his wrist free and pulled him out of his boxers. She gave an airy gasp as she discovered every hard inch of his cock; she swiftly licked her palm and wrapped her hand around him, eagerly jerking him off without a second thought.

After a few moments of hearing his pleasured sounds at the instant contact, Taylor shuffled around, keeping her hand pumping as she dropped down on her knees beside his chair. She wanted him to look at her, wanted him to see her as she touched him.

Much to his frustration, Harry didn’t last long. His face scrunched up the closer he got, his jaw dropping when she instinctively knew to lean forward and take him into her mouth. He moaned desperately, releasing within seconds of her lips enveloping him. Holy shit, Taylor could hardly believe _she_ had gotten him that worked up.

Swallowing and licking her lips, Taylor smiled up at him as he calmed down, his wondrous expression when he finally met her eyes again absolutely thrilling her. She didn’t think she’d given him much, but his amazed gaze was telling a different story.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly, yet she shook her head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do. Fuck, Tay. You’re so…”

He couldn’t seem to find an accurate description, and Taylor just smiled, giving him a long kiss before parting to resume her pose on the bed.

While she easily slipped back into their work, Harry was far less composed, fumbling around as he tucked himself back into his underwear and tried to figure out where he was up to. After staring between the canvas and the array of materials, he seemed to figure it out eventually, drying a medium-sized brush on an old paint-stained hand towel he’d had for years. He dipped the end into a blob of creamy paint and got back to work.

Perhaps a little disappointingly, Harry wasn’t in need of a hand or a blow job every time he needed his water replaced. He seemed to have gotten a grip on his emotions since she had gotten a grip on his manhood, which was better for his art but not so much the slickness between Taylor’s thighs. She found herself again lost in fantasy while he painted, quite enjoying the idea that he might return the favour any minute now.

“How’re you feeling, love?” Harry asked her after quite some time, swishing a brush around in his water cup.

“I’m doing great,” Taylor assured him, breaking into a smile at the interaction. “I’m pretty comfortable here.”

“I’m glad.” He didn’t look so comfortable, fidgeting now and then thanks to his awkward leg, stuck out straight to one side, but he still never complained.

“How’s it coming along?”

“Good. Not much left, I don’t think. You sure you’re alright? I know it’s been ages.”

They’d been in there for nearly two hours now, but it actually didn’t feel that long. Harry easily lost track of time when he was immersed in a project, and Taylor had found peace in the quietness of it. It barely registered to her anymore that she was uncharacteristically almost completely naked, having slipped into a contented state of mind where she didn’t so much care about Harry’s judgment. After all, his thoughts had proved to be far from critical. This life drawing thing was rather nice, she realised.

“I’m good. Take as long as you want.”

“As long as I _want_ or as long as I _need?_ ” Harry asked, raising a brow as the left side of his lips quirked up.

Taylor’s smile adopted his air of flirtation. “It might be more fun if you take as long as you _need_.”

“Oh? Well I better hurry up then,” he said, only half joking.

It was still a while later before Harry set a paintbrush aside for the last time. He tilted his head from side to side, critiquing his work until he was sure he was happy with it. Silently, he beckoned her over, and Taylor crawled off the bed and stood behind him.

For a moment, Taylor didn’t believe it was really her. The woman lying in the painting was suggestive, sensual without being too overt. Her breasts were in plain sight, but it was rather modest. It was more of a nod to the beautiful natural shape of her body, which Harry had captured stunningly in the effective low light, perfect shadows highlighting and contrasting her curves.

There was something different about it compared to his other life drawings he had shown her, other than the obvious change of model. Taylor didn’t quite realise it, but there was a lovingness that had guided Harry’s brushstrokes. The way he looked at her like she was an angel walking among mere mortals had influenced the feel of the painting, a deep connection between artist and model that lingered within the paint itself.

As apprehensive as all this had initially made her, Taylor adored it. She adored _Harry_. The feelings she had for him suddenly overwhelmed her, and she turned his head to the side so she could kiss him, long and with more passion than he had been expecting.

“You like it?” he guessed, smiling brightly as their mouths parted.

“I love it,” Taylor told him truthfully. “You’re so talented. How did you even do all this in such a short amount of time?”

“Well, I’m not, like, _super_ realistic,” Harry tried to talk himself down, his paint-stroked index finger pointing toward the canvas in front of them as he explained. “See, proper portraitures would spend more time on the details, you know? Like, I could’ve done more on your face, but I like… Well, I’m not great at the realism thing.”

“Are you kidding? Look at the detail in my hair,” Taylor disputed, pointing over his shoulder at the painting too. Her untamed locks fell in tight messy curls that, somehow, Harry had managed to turn into authentic brushstrokes on the canvas.

“’s mainly just the shadows there,” he shrugged a little, though it was much more than that. Care had gone into his work – it was blatantly obvious.

“Did you really add in freckles?” Stepping around his chair, she leaned in closer in front of him, and cautiously, Harry wrapped his arms around her and guided her down onto his lap. It was unexpected and she very nearly lost her balance, but she managed to settle without leaning too much on his cast or knocking anything over.

“I like the one on your neck,” Harry said, his hand trailing up to ghost over the small dark spot above her collarbone.

“How could you even see that from here?”

“I couldn’t really. I just knew where it was.”

Twisting to look at him, Taylor smiled at him in awe. “So much for not doing detail.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t do _any_ ,” he laughed. “So you like it?”

“I really do. You’re incredible at drawing people.”

“I love working with bodies. Especially women’s.” Reconsidering his words, he wrinkled his nose. “I don’t mean that in, like, a sexual way. But women are much more beautifully shaped, you know? There’s so much pressure for women to look perfect all the time, but I think… Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Who gives a shit if you don’t have abs or big tits or whatever it is they’re telling you you have to have? Every single woman I’ve drawn has been beautiful without being flawless.

“I’d love to do an exhibition like that one day. Just pictures of lots of different women, nothing on, just embracing raw beauty. Celebrating it, rather. I think we should be celebrating instead of trying to pick out things that supposedly need fixing.”

Taylor was speechless. Not once had she heard a man speak about the matter with such… well, _sense_. In a world where objectification and harassment was disgustingly commonplace, it was an overwhelming relief to hear that there was still some good out there. Harry had clearly been raised well, and she sent a silent thank you to his parents for doing such a respectable job.

“That sounds incredible, Harry,” Taylor said softly. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“It might never happen.”

“I’ve got a good feeling it will.” Kissing his appreciative smile, she lightly caressed his face. “Thank you for painting me so well.”

“Thank _you_ for being such an exceptional inspiration.”

They kissed there for a short while before Taylor lifted off him, helping to clean up the things that really needed doing before they retreated to bed for the night. While she rinsed his brushes and his palette, Harry got up to stretch as best as he could, going to wash his stained fingers in the other sink. He packed away his paints and left her to return the dining chairs back to their usual place at the table, leaving the canvas to dry on the table, hoping neither of the cats would get up to any funny business during the night and mess it up.

Rather presumptuously, neither of them prepared for bed before they settled back on it. Harry, relaxed out on his back, was more than happy to have Taylor, still just in her little black panties, climb on top of him. She propped herself up above him, his arms wrapping around her lean body, and melted completely into the pleasant warmth of his mouth.

With the candles still alight, it was quite romantic. Their kisses were filled with the feelings they had pent up over the last few hours, sweet and sensual and brimming with unspoken promise. Taylor couldn’t recall a time she had felt so… so utterly _adored_.

Hands roaming over her back, Taylor moaned into Harry’s mouth as they soon circled around to find her breasts, his touch gentle as he explored her. She broke from his lips, arching her back as he paid her attention, thumbs rubbing over her hardened nipples.

Harry shifted as best he could to kiss her right breast, lips pressing over the pale flesh. Taylor shuffled further up to give him a better angle, gasping sharply as he sunk his teeth into her sensitive nipple. The soothing lap of his tongue helped ease the pain.

“’s okay?” Harry made sure, voice huskier than usual. With his warm breath tickling her skin and his hand still on her other breast, Taylor struggled to think of anything sexier.

“Perfect,” she sighed, though she quickly tugged at his shirt. “Why are you still wearing this?”

“’ve been too busy thinking about you,” he smiled, and god, did he know how to make a girl swoon.

Sitting up, Taylor helped Harry out of his clothes, careful with getting his shorts off over his cast. She smoothed her hands over his tattooed torso, tracing over the odd collection of drawings he had felt connected enough with to permanently mark on his body. She thumbed his own nipples in return, smiling as it had him biting down on his lip.

As she leaned back down on top of him, they kissed each other deeply for a long while, soft sounds and teasing tongues. Their skin was heated in every place it touched, and Taylor could feel the thrilling firmness of his arousal rubbing up against her, igniting more fire between her legs.

She could scarcely believe the effect she had on him. As she trailed her lips down his neck, daring to suck a dark bruise onto his skin, Harry made such a gorgeous _don’t stop_ moan that she couldn’t help from sinking her teeth into the mark she’d produced, smirking at the hand that squeezed her ass as he repeated that sound more desperately. It had been such a long time since anyone had wanted her this way, and Taylor couldn’t decide if she was more surprised by how much Harry wanted _her_ or how much she wanted _him_. Her whole body was aching for him, dying to have him touch her in every place and have him nestled deep between her legs; Harry quite clearly wanted the same.

Both were shy to initiate it, though. Harry’s fingers played meaningfully with the edges of her underwear, but he made no move to tug them down. Taylor was the first to say something, as unexpected as that seemed to her. She propped herself up, her lips bright red and swollen and longing to return to his identical pair.

“Did you… want to…?” she whispered, and Harry’s face split into a wide grin.

“Yes,” he exhaled excitedly, some of his enthusiasm dimming on realisation. “It’s just… I, um. I don’t have anything with me…”

His cheeks flushed with endearing nerves, and Taylor affectionately bumped the tip of her nose against his. “I’m on the pill,” she softly reassured him, smiling at his obvious relief.

“And you’re okay if we…?”

She nodded impulsively, her own anticipation multiplying. “It’s just been a while for me, okay?”

“Me too,” he quietly agreed, which came as a surprise. He was ridiculously attractive and could surely get any girl he wanted, but considering how flustered he sometimes got around her and how excited he was now, maybe he was telling the truth.

That only made her feel all the more special, and Taylor took great care in getting his underwear off over his cast, revelling at his admiring gaze as she slipped off her own.

“So beautiful,” Harry murmured, taking her hand and kissing each of her knuckles. Her radiant smile matched his.

Slowly, Taylor sat down on him, involuntarily gasping as he filled her up. Harry rubbed his hands over her thighs, his touch soothing as she accustomed herself to the feeling of having a man inside her again, especially one of considerable size.

“Okay?” he checked, and she nodded, leaning back down to press her lips back to his.

Taylor took it slow, lazily moving herself on top of him. She rather preferred it that way; a romantic, she liked intimacy to make her feel loved, not just like another pretty girl to bed. She liked to have a real connection with the person she was with, and she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t have strong feelings for Harry. She wouldn’t be lying on top of him, softly moaning at the sensation of having him inside her, if she didn’t.

Even if they were in switched positions, Harry in good health, she was sure he would take the same gentle care with her as she was taking now. He seemed so utterly pleasured lying underneath her, his hands caressing her in wondrous exploration. His sounds were low and honest, and he kissed her like he meant it with all his heart. Like she _mattered_ to him, like he returned her feelings and more. She could feel it in every one of his touches, seeping into her veins and coursing an adoring warmth all through her body.

The intensity was more than she had been expecting. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, like they’d done this countless times before. Taylor was struck by how much she wanted to stay this way, in this moment of pure blissful connection. Harry’s embrace was warm with an unanticipated sense of protection. To feel safe in such a vulnerable position was a grand relief.

With his hands on her ass, gently guiding her, Taylor needn’t any warning of his growing climax. She was watching him, his eyes now squeezed shut and his brows pinched, soft moans escaping his parted pink lips. She could feel her own orgasm building (a perk of having control and being able to get it just how she liked it), and she brushed her lips over his, catching his bottom lip between her two in a desperate kiss.

Biting down on his lip almost had him tipping over the edge. Harry moaned louder in surprise, his hips bucking up. Taylor kissed him, nipped at his earlobe, down his neck, until he gripped too tightly on her hips and delightfully reminded her what it was like to make a man come.

She rode him through it, the friction enough to send her tumbling into ecstasy, the blissful moan that usually had no one to hear it now met by Harry wrapping his arms around her shaking figure as she finally released around his cock sitting deep inside her.

Together, they slowly regulated their beating hearts. Taylor pressed her forehead against his, smiling, and Harry tilted his chin to kiss her a couple more times.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered with the most adorable grin, and when she cupped his face and kissed him for much longer, soon feeling him harden again inside her, Taylor didn’t think twice about starting to rock herself on top of him again.

By the time they prised themselves apart, both were tuckered out. Taylor knew better than to fall asleep in her contacts, though, and the burning candles dotted around were a fire hazard. With Harry’s shirt pulled over her head and hanging loose on her slender frame, she tried not to take long with her nightly routine, letting Harry have his (much shorter) turn in the bathroom after her.

Taylor stifled a giggle as she watched him hop back into the bedroom on crutches, naked save the cast on his leg. It shouldn’t really have been funny (probably it was just because she was tired), and if Harry noticed her amusement at such an odd sight to grace her bedroom, he made no complaint. He just climbed his awkward way into bed, grinning as she immediately tucked up under his arm, her head resting on his smooth chest and her eyes falling closed.

The steady beat of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest was unbelievably relaxing, and she was on the precipice of sleep when Harry eventually spoke again.

“Tay?” he whispered, and she merely hummed in response. “I think getting hit by that car was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 

*** * * * ***

When her alarm went off in the morning, Taylor wanted nothing more than to curl back up under Harry’s arm and stay there all day.

The sound disturbed Harry, too, his eyes opening blearily and filling her with guilt when she noticed him stir beside him. It was early and there was no reason for him to be awake.

“Morning, angel,” he sighed sleepily, reaching out to pull her back into his embrace. Over the course of the night, they hadn’t strayed far from each other, and Taylor found herself longing to stay near him in wake.

“You can go back to sleep,” she told him quietly, to which he hummed, tilting her chin up to give her a light kiss on her lips.

“Other things I’d rather do,” he said, both smiling.

“I have to get ready for work.”

“Can’t you spare a couple minutes?”

“Nope.”

Taylor kissed him once more, quickly slipping out from under his arm before they started anything neither would want to stop. She shuffled out the other side of the bed, deliberately staying out of Harry’s reach so he couldn’t catch her like she could tell he wanted to. His lazy gaze followed her as she walked out in nothing but his shirt, his admiration of her bare legs giving her quite the nice start to her day.

As usual, she tried to keep quiet as she went about getting ready for work. Feeding her cats and fixing something for herself, Taylor was appalled to find a reddish bruise on her collarbone when she went to the bathroom to wash her face. Damn Harry. She couldn’t really complain when she knew she’d done worse to him, though, she supposed.

She was definitely sore. After abstaining for so long, one round would’ve sufficed, but she didn’t regret spending longer with Harry. Even as she delicately touched the tenderness between her legs, testing the sensitivity, she didn’t feel particularly inclined to wait out the ache.

Which, of course, was good news for Harry, whose hand was moving purposely under the sheets when Taylor returned to her bedroom to get dressed. She eyed him with a raised brow, and Harry gave her his delightful dimpled smile.

“You might not have time, but I’ve got nothing but it,” he said fairly reasonably, yet she rolled her eyes, making her way to her closet. Despite the temperature, she would have to find something high cut. “How’re you feeling, love?”

“I’m not about to say in the mood, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied dryly, though that wasn’t exactly what her body was telling her. She plucked a striped sleeveless top out while Harry laughed behind her.

“ _Are_ you in the mood?” he teased, and when she didn’t answer, he propped himself up on one elbow. Softer, he asked, “Are you okay, Tay?”

After finding a skirt to match, Taylor clutched the clothes to her chest, turning around to find Harry looking at her nervously. Smiling affectionately, she quickly nodded. “Much better than okay. Just, um, a bit sore.”

“Sorry,” he laughed a little apprehensively. “Sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you.”

God, how had she managed to find such a genuinely sweet guy? Boys his age weren’t supposed to be so thoughtful – boys _her_ age weren’t.

“I never said I didn’t _want_ to do anything…” Taylor said slowly.

Harry tilted his head to the side. “You kind of did.”

Tossing her clothes onto a spare space on the bed, Taylor climbed up onto his lap and proved him wrong.

Despite the interruption, she managed to make it to work on time. Her thoughts were clouded with images of Harry, though, which wasn’t perfect for her focus. She bunched pink roses and cymbidiums with the thought of the butterfly inked on Harry’s chest and served customers with the lingering feeling of his lips on hers.

All evidence was neatly hidden, however, and no one questioned the extra spring in her step.

All but Selena. After Taylor’s emergency text to meet up for lunch, she had two conclusions: everything with Harry had gone horribly wrong, or wonderfully, perfectly right.

At midday, both girls taking their lunch breaks simultaneously, they met up at a café halfway between their workplaces. While Taylor was dressed neat but casual, Selena had her hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing an office-appropriate blouse and pencil skirt. As a receptionist for a production company she hoped to move up the ranks in, she certainly looked the sophisticated part.

“I take it this is good news,” she predicted when she arrived minutes after Taylor, slipping into the seat across from her after placing her order at the counter.

Taylor had chosen the most private table she could, right at the back, and she still glanced around covertly before she dared to speak, making sure no one around was listening. “ _IsleptwithHarry_ ,” she confessed in a rush, holding her head in her hands as Selena’s eyes blew wide.

“Oh my god.”

“I _know_.”

Leaning in with instant curiosity, Selena lowered her voice for her friend’s sake. “How was it?”

“Really good,” Taylor admitted, her face beginning to burn. She wasn’t the best at talking about her sex life; she was a much better listener. Giving details made her feel exposed, almost as much as taking her clothes off did. It didn’t help that they were in _public_.

“How is he?” Selena asked with a meaningful wiggle of her eyebrows, jaw dropping as Taylor discreetly measured her fingers an impressive set of inches apart on the tabletop. “Tay! Shit, how are you feeling?”

“How do you _think_ I’m feeling?”

They both giggled, and Taylor felt some of her awkwardness dissipate. This was Selena: she knew she could tell her anything.

And so she began to debrief what had happened after their beach trip, keeping her voice down and pausing altogether when a waitress dropped their lunches off at their table. They ate and gossiped and Taylor started to feel more grounded, less like she was in a fantasy land where guys like Harry actually wanted girls like her.

“I can’t believe you actually did it,” Selena said of her sitting for Harry’s painting. “I mean, I had a feeling you might, but you’re normally so private.”

“I can’t believe I did it either,” Taylor agreed, shaking her head slightly. “It was just… spontaneous. I didn’t realise I liked him _that_ much.”

Catching the unexpected flicker of seriousness cross her face, Selena frowned a little. “Why do I sense that something’s bothering you?”

Taylor nibbled on her lip, twisting the ring on her right middle finger around absentmindedly. “It’s just… I don’t want to get too attached, you know?”

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s not like it’s going to last.”

She hadn’t wanted to start anything with him for that very reason, and now look at her: Taylor was torn between the excitement of a new flame and the weight of knowing it had an expiry date.

Selena, apparently, didn’t share the same line of reason. “What gives you that idea?”

“The fact that he’s going to be leaving me in a matter of weeks. He’s not gonna have any reason to see me anymore.”

“Aside from being crazy about you, you mean,” the brunette replied obviously. “And you really think he’s going to be able to go back to his normal life as soon as he gets the cast off? He’s going to be stuck in physiotherapy, and in _your_ apartment.”

Okay, sure, that was probably true, but there was still a cynical part of her that was convinced Harry, just like every other boy, wouldn’t stay.

“He doesn’t just like you ‘cause of circumstance,” Selena assured her as if reading her mind, reaching across to touch Taylor’s wrist comfortingly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I saw how he looked at you. And you’re a total catch, babe. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“I think I’d have to re-hardwire my brain in order for that to happen,” Taylor muttered, though she offered a smile again. “I know I’m overthinking it. I just don’t want to get hurt. I don’t even know what we are now.”

“If it really bothers you, just be honest with him. Tell him you’re not comfortable with casual hook ups. If he’s a dick about it, then you can say you’ve dodged a bullet. And if he’s not…”

“More dick?”

With her innocent tone contrasting her cheeky grin, the girls burst into inappropriate giggles. God, Taylor was glad to have a friend like Selena.

They soon parted with a hug and a promise to text later, as much as they would’ve preferred to continue hanging out instead. The rest of her shift wasn’t too difficult; there wasn’t much to do. Taylor felt better for talking things through, and she resolved to clear things up with Harry when she got home: she didn’t want to be casual sex for him. She wanted to know where she stood with him. She _needed_ to know what she meant to him.

After the voicemail he left her, she began to doubt it was all that much.

According to his message, he was working on something and needed an extra hour to himself to finish up. Apparently, now that she had let him between her legs, he thought it perfectly acceptable to ban her from coming home whenever she felt like it. _Wow_.

Trying her best to be understanding – he was probably painting and in the zone, disturbances unwelcome – Taylor took the chance to stop by the library, open late for nearby students. She meant to pick up some new books anyway, so it wasn’t _so_ bad. She just would’ve preferred to have gone without being kicked out of her own apartment first.

This wasn’t doing Harry any favours. Rather, she was a tad pissed that he had the audacity to try to control her, just like any other self-entitled male. And here she had been thinking he was different. _Hah_.

She browsed the quiet library shelves and picked out a few novels, taking a comfortable chair in a relaxed sitting area and getting stuck into one. If she had to pass time, she figured she might as well enjoy it.

It was over an hour after she had clocked off by the time Taylor blinked back into the real world, checking out the mystery novels she couldn’t get enough of. She stopped for gas on the way home, thinking she might just have a bath to unwind later, mess with Harry’s head a little at the thought of her bare and untouchable.

Only, when she finally unlocked her door and stepped into her apartment, all that changed.

“What’s all this?”

It was dark, aside from the candles flickering alight on the dining table. There were two places set across from each other – their usual spots. Both had empty wine glasses sitting on round coasters, and Harry was already sitting in the chair closest to her. At the sound of her arrival, he swivelled to smile at her, a mix of eagerness and nervousness, and it melted away each of Taylor’s deprecating thoughts.

“Come sit down, love.”

Too stunned to argue, Taylor slipped out of her heels and left her things on the floor, filling the seat across from him and letting him take her hands in his larger ones, remnants of paint stuck on his cuticles a permanent feature.

“How was your day?”

“Good,” she replied automatically. “What is this?”

Eyes locked on hers, Harry released a deep breath, lightly squeezing her hands. “I wanted to do something nice for you. Like… a date.” His cheeks flushed, dimples popping. “I, um. I thought you’d like dinner? I can’t take you anywhere, but I thought I could bring it to you.”

Oh my god. Oh my god, he was so fucking cute, Taylor thought she might cry.

“I really like you,” he blurted out, as if he knew she’d had doubts. “I don’t want you to think last night – and this morning,” he grinned bashfully, “was just… I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked when she looked like she was about to burst into tears, his smile fading in fear he’d totally fucked all this up. Taylor shook her head, laughing a little, and quickly got up out of her seat and rounded over to kiss him. Her hands slipped out of his and cupped his face, kissing him with all the complete adoration she felt in that moment.

He hadn’t been making use of her kindness. He had been planning a surprise. Oh god, he _was_ as wonderful as he seemed.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Taylor said breathlessly.

“I wanted to,” Harry grinned, tangling his fingers in her blonde locks. “I’ve got things keeping hot – just give me a minute. Did you want something to drink?”

“I’ll get it,” she insisted, kissing him again. “Are you having some wine with me?” she asked with a nod to the waiting glasses.

“If you don’t mind the idea of the police bursting in and arresting you for serving a minor at any moment,” he teased, making her laugh.

“I doubt that’s going to happen.”

“You never know.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

While Taylor poured each of them glasses of red, wondering if he really did like wine or if he was just trying to seem more sophisticated, Harry started plating up the meal he’d prepared. It smelled delicious, and she had to wonder what he had managed to come up with on short notice with the ingredients on hand.

Once he was done, she came over to him to carry the plates over for him, sliding her arm around his waist as she checked out what they were having.

“Chicken cacciatoire,” Harry announced proudly, the dish sounding even nicer in that accent of his.

“I’m impressed,” Taylor smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

They settled at the table, toasting their glasses before tucking in. Whether it be from having to live on his own, Harry was actually a pretty good cook. The chicken breast he’d found in the freezer was cooked perfectly, tender pieces coated in a delicious tomato sauce on top of a bed of rice. It had Taylor thinking that perhaps she should get him in the kitchen more often.

“You _can_ take me out, you know,” Taylor let him know, smiling over a forkful of chicken.

“’s just a bit awkward when I’m like this, is all,” Harry said, shrugging a little. If he thought she was embarrassed to be seen with him, he was nuts.

“There are plenty of places we can go. I’m not gonna not date you just ‘cause you’ve got a broken leg.”

His eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He looked rather striking, with the light falling perfectly across the handsome definitions of his face. He had a stray curl flopping down on his forehead, and she wondered if he knew how much he looked as much like a piece of art as any one of his drawings did.

“I gotta say though, I am loving all this,” she added with a sweeping gesture to the decorated table. It had been so long since anyone had gone to this kind of effort for her, and her heart was swelled with affection and gratitude. She needed him to know how much it actually meant to her.

“Sorry I stopped you from coming home right away,” Harry apologised, which she was thankful for too. “Time got away from me a bit. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“I like surprises.”

“Really?”

He sounded so hopeful and looked just as much, and Taylor happily took his hand that was resting on the table and kissed his fingers. The smile it brought to his face was more than worth it.

“I know where I’d like to take you,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve already been, but I’d still like to go with you.”

Intrigued, Taylor smiled back at him. “Are you going to tell me where it is or is it going to be another surprise?”

“Well, I don’t suppose we can get there without you knowing,” he laughed. “You know that old train station they turned into a garden?”

“High Line,” she supplied, smile brightening. He was right: she _had_ been there before. It had been one of the first places she had visited when she moved to the city. She loved it there, loved the atmosphere of such a thriving natural environment in what was otherwise a concrete jungle. And knowing that Harry listened to her and knew her well enough to know that it was somewhere she would want to go, well, she quite liked that too.

“I haven’t been before, but there’s no one else I’d rather go with.”

“I think you’ll love it,” Taylor said genuinely. “There are some places I’d like to take you, too.”

“Oh?” Now he was the curious one. “Do I get to know any of them?”

“Have you ever been to the Met?”

Harry’s face lit up, and he tapped the prongs of his fork on the top of a piece of chicken eagerly. “No! You’d really take me?”

“Of course,” Taylor laughed at his enthusiasm. “We should go into the city and make a day of it. There are so many cafés I’m sure you’d love, too.”

Resting his hand over his heart theatrically, Harry’s dimpled grin appeared a permanent fixture. “My angel. My absolute, fucking angel. How did I get so lucky?”

“Lucky? I don’t think everyone would call you lucky.”

“Not everyone is living with such a generous, beautiful, passionate, _angel_.”

Taylor lightly kicked his good leg, unable to fight her own grin. “You have to stop calling me that.”

“Never.”

That was, actually, exactly what she wanted to hear.

Once they eventually finished up, having taken their time with their hearty meal, they cuddled up together on the couch, Taylor tucked nicely under Harry’s arm. He kissed her fondly, still smiling down at her.

“You know I mean it, right?” he said, and she tilted her head slightly in curiosity. “I really fancy you. You’re… you’re my muse.”

Resting her hand on his cheek, Taylor gave him a kiss full of tenderness, hoping he knew how easily she was completely falling for him.


	4. Chapter Four

“Oh my gosh, yes! That’s perfect!”

Taylor smiled over the top of the bridal bouquet she held in her hand, quite pleased with the result herself. The careful bunching of frangipanis tucked in with white roses was a simple pretty aesthetic that the bride-to-be was ecstatic to see come together.

“You like it?” Taylor asked, looking over her eager client sitting opposite the work bench. They were in the back room of the shop, in the partition especially for the customers requesting special order arrangements.

“It’s perfect, Taylor,” the young woman, Daniella, beamed at her. In the midst of wedding planning, Daniella had come to Flora Bliss for her flowers, asking specifically for Taylor after seeing her bouquets on the shop’s Instagram account. It still amazed Taylor whenever someone asked such a thing – it always would.

“Not many people ask for frangipanis, you know,” Taylor let her know, passing the bouquet over so Daniella could get a closer look at her careful work. “But I think they work really well with the more traditional wedding flowers.”

“They’re Jack’s favourite,” Daniella replied with a fond smile, the same she wore whenever she mentioned anything about her fiancé. “He’d be so embarrassed I said that. He had a frangipani tree in his garden back home, though, and he loved it. Gosh, I can’t wait to show him.”

Neatly sweeping the leftover stem clippings together to one side, Taylor smiled back warmly. “A lot of men have favourite flowers. People just don’t think to ask.”

“You probably get asked all the time, right?”

She nodded. “Roses, in case you were wondering.”

“Do you get flowers a lot? Or do people think you don’t need them since you’re here all the time?”

“I give them more than I receive them. But if a guy doesn’t get me flowers, then he really doesn’t know me at all.”

They laughed; Taylor was always glad to have a client she got along with. She dealt with plenty of stressed brides and high-strung mothers, so it was always nice to find someone who was more excited about their big day than anything else.

“Do you make up bouquets for guys you’re with?” Daniella asked curiously.

“Sometimes. Actually, my boyfriend got so excited last time I brought home flowers for him.”

Taylor blushed at her accidental choice of words, which only had Daniella smiling wider.

“That’s so cute!”

She shrugged slightly, shyer. “He’s an artist, so he loves to paint them. I think he’s drawn every plant in my apartment at least twice by now.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Oh, it’s only new,” Taylor brushed it off.

“Has he bought you flowers yet?”

“Not yet. He’s, um. He was in an accident, so he can’t really get around much at the moment, but he’s promised he will as soon as he’s recovered.”

Daniella’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my gosh, is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s alright. He’s doing pretty well, actually.”

“That’s a relief. He’s so lucky to have you there for him right now.”

She didn’t know the half of it.

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah,” Taylor exhaled in a laugh. “And he’s British.”

“Oh my gosh! Keep buying him flowers, girl,” Daniella grinned encouragingly, clearly happy for her. “Are you gonna do the flowers for your own wedding?”

“Probably, yeah. Same with all my friends’ future weddings, and my brother’s, and my cousins’. And friends’ siblings, too, most likely. At least I know I’ll have some work ahead of me for the next ten years or so.”

“Oh, I’m totally recommending you to my friends! I love all your bouquets – they’re so beautiful. You’re going to make my wedding look so pretty; I’m so excited!”

And so they went on, experimenting with smaller variations of the bridal bouquet for the rest of the arrangements for the special day.

Taylor, though, found Harry lingering in the recesses of her mind, and it cast an extra sense of ease in her demeanour.

While it had only been some days since their delightful dinner, things had been awfully sweet around the apartment since. Harry, the adorable one he was, had turned puppy-eyed ever since he discovered his feelings were reciprocated, and he was always quite clearly eager to have her come home each day. He loved cuddling up with her, despite the summer temperatures warming up the place, and god, did he love kissing her. Then there was the daily intimacy, which was _most_ enjoyable.

They hadn’t exactly defined outright what they were, but it certainly seemed as if they were delving into relationship territory. Besides, ‘Harry’ and ‘boyfriend’ came off her tongue quite nicely. She could definitely get used to that.

Taylor was in a particularly good mood when she made it home for the day, much thanks to Daniella and her praises. Designing her arrangements had gone without a hitch, and she was keen for when she actually got to construct each bouquet when the official day arrived in a few months’ time. She wished all the best for the happy pair.

When she arrived home, she found Harry lying on the sofa, idly stroking Olivia who was stretched out beside him, soft fur tickling the bare skin of his torso. Whatever reason he had chosen not to put on a shirt, Taylor certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Afternoon, angel,” he greeted her with a twist of his neck to watch her walk in, grinning over at her. “Ooh, you brought more flowers!”

With a secret smile, Taylor deposited her handbag on the table before heading over to show him the bouquet she had bought. For him, or for herself, it didn’t particularly matter anymore.

“Do you like them?” she asked, smiling as Harry propped himself up to peer at the orange-toned arrangement in her hand.

“They smell lovely,” he grinned, happily returning her kiss as she leaned in. “Teach me what they are.”

“These long ones are heliconias, and these are orchids and lilies here.”

“I love when you talk horticulture to me.”

Giggling, Taylor kissed him again, feeling his smile against her lips.

“Tell me more,” Harry said between kisses. “Squirt me with your spray bottle.”

“Oh my god,” she snorted, breaking away from him. “Is that your idea of dirty talk?”

“Is it working?”

Harry looked so freaking cheeky with that playful smirk of his that Taylor almost wanted to jump on top of him and say yes.

“I should get these in some water,” Taylor said instead, standing back up and going in search of a vase with Harry’s admiring stare following her back.

“I finished my pot today,” he told her cheerily. “Just has to dry.”

As promised, Taylor had taken him to her favourite nursery to let him pick out his own plant to grow. With her recommendations, he eventually settled on a small oxalis, as well as a plain pot for it to mature in.

The pot was not plain cream any longer. No, after setting her fresh flowers in a crystal vase and positioning them on the end of the kitchen bench, she went over to the spot by the window he had found space to keep it and discovered that he had decorated the whole thing with a replica of Van Gogh’s ‘The Starry Night’ – an impressive rendition at that.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Taylor gaped as she knelt down to get a proper look.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I _like_ it? God, Harry, you reproduced a masterpiece in my own home. It’s gonna be perfect once this grows a bit more. God. You’re so talented.”

Sitting up, Harry looked over at her in amusement. “I didn’t know you were turned on by plants in pots that look like famous paintings.”

Taylor flashed him a glare, lasting only mere seconds before she began laughing. “Shut up, or I’ll _actually_ spray you.”

“Spray me all you want, sexy.”

There was a challenging glint in his eyes, and she had to fight back an eye roll as she plopped down on the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I really don’t think you have a horticulturist kink.”

“My nipples are hard,” he said so casually it had her bursting into laughter, having to tightly clamp her lips together to try to get a hold of herself. Harry was still smiling, though, so he clearly didn’t mind such a reaction. “C’mere, angel.”

“And what if I don’t?” she replied teasingly.

“Well I can’t just hop over to you, can I?”

Of course she went back over to him, shuffling over on her knees. Olivia abandoned them upon realising her cosy spot was being invaded, totting off on light paws while Harry swivelled to sit with his leg up on the table, Taylor climbing up comfortably onto his lap. His arms immediately circled around her back and they slipped into the long tender kisses they had become addicted to.

With some effort quite some time later, Taylor rid herself of her clothes, Harry wriggling out of his shorts as she did. She returned to his lap, though not immediately giving them what they both wanted; his hardened cock was pressed between their stomachs, and she wondered if he could feel her own arousal on his thighs.

Harry’s hands moved up her waist, his gaze loving as he regarded her admiringly. As intense as his stare often was, Taylor found that it didn’t make her uncomfortable, not like it might coming from others. She didn’t know how to explain it, but she felt like when he looked at her, he was attracted to _all_ of her, inside and out. It was something she hadn’t been expecting, least not from a younger man.

Gently he ran his fingers down her chest; while the tips were still faintly blue from paint he hadn’t properly scrubbed off, his nails were a pastel pink thanks to the polish of hers he had unashamedly borrowed. Harry seemed to be steadier at painting his nails than she was, she jealously thought when she first got a glance at the pink digits.

He trailed his fingertips down the cleft between her breasts, green eyes following the path that sent a slight shiver down her spine. “Like a constellation,” he murmured at the small cluster of freckles that dotted her cleavage, his lips pressing to the darkest of the few spots. Taylor tilted her head back, sighing.

Harry _noticed_ these things about her. His rapt attention and his wholehearted compliments left her completely love struck.

“You do seem to think I’m celestial,” she noted airily, and Harry chuckled, tilting his head up to her.

“You are, my angel. You’re the brightest star,” – he kissed her breast bone – “the most beautiful,” – he kissed her collarbone – “girl in the world.”

“Maybe in _your_ world.”

“It’s the only world I know.”

_God_.

Taylor wrapped her hand around his member and guided him inside of her, where she felt so full of him and all of his undying admiration.

A few minutes of leisurely rocking on him, Harry’s hands wandering her back and her breasts, and the two of them were left quivering in each other’s arms, overcome by the pleasure they so easily found together. Neither made any immediate effort to move apart, Taylor contentedly resting her head on Harry’s shoulder while his fingertips slowly ran up and down her spine, the tender motion soothing after what they’d just shared.

“You’re amazing, love,” he eventually murmured, and she smiled, eyes remaining closed.

“So are you,” she sighed happily, lightly pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Do you mind much? That we can’t, um, do everything at the moment?”

“Well, I’m a little curious,” she admitted, sliding her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, a tad damp from the light sweat they had broken into, “what it would be like to have you in control.”

“We could try.”

“Nuh uh. I’ve told you already, there’s no way I’m letting you put weight on that leg when you’re so close to it healing.”

Even without lifting her head, she knew he was pouting.

“What would I do without you looking out for me?” he then said, dipping his head to nuzzle her hair, lips finding the skin of her neck and giving her tingles as he breathed “my angel” before dotting her with light kisses. In that moment, Taylor felt complete contentment, the mutual trust between them one she was deeply grateful for.

“I love being with you,” Harry surprised her by saying, making her heart swoop at the word she had not heard a man say to her in quite some time. “Not just like this, but… I don’t know. I feel like, with you… there’s no one like you. No one makes me feel the same, or as much.”

With a pounding heart she was sure he could feel with their chests pressed up against each other, Taylor finally lifted her head, her eyes landing on the intense adoring stare that surely would’ve had her weak at the knees if she weren’t already sitting down.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?” she said, and the radiant smile he gave her was _exactly_ what she was talking about.

Taylor caressed his face as she kissed him fondly, grinning as Harry spoke, “I’ve some idea,” against her lips.

He sighed when they pulled away, his dreamy eyes darkening with lust. “I’d do anything for you when you kiss me like that.”

With a sly arch of her brow, Taylor kissed him again, swallowing his giggle as she slipped her tongue in his mouth. She played with his, catching his tongue between her lips and sucking lightly, teasing, so it had him moaning in surprise at the unexpected sensation. She did the same with his bottom lip, rewarded with his amazed gaze when she broke away.

“You know,” he said, licking his swollen lips tugged up in a smirk, “you may be an angel, but you’re quite the opposite in bed.”

“We’re not _in_ bed,” Taylor pointed out with a smirk of her own, purposely rubbing her thumb bluntly over his nipple until she felt it stiffen underneath her touch.

“Like that matters.” Grabbing her hips, he shifted where they joined only slightly, but enough to have her stifling a small groan as his cock, aroused again, moved inside her. “Fuck me.”

Pressing her lips firmly shut, Taylor refused to let him know how much she was turned on by those two words spoken in his rich voice, clamping down on the moan threatening to spill out. He seemed to know what she was doing, though, as he smirked cunningly as he kissed her throat, breathing hot air on her neck as he insisted, “Fuck me, Taylor.”

“Come to bed,” she instructed impulsively, and, just as he had said, he did just as she asked.

The confidence that came to her when they transitioned to her bedroom was one that was buried deep inside her, one she didn’t even quite know she had. Harry brought it out of her – perhaps that’s what she needed, a young man with unmasked devotion in his eyes to help her feel as gorgeous as she really was. For the girl who spent her days arranging flowers did not normally feel like she was sexy enough to get a guy _this_ absolutely aroused, but Harry… Harry loved every second she spent touching him.

She licked the tip of his solid cock before she hovered above him, making him watch as she rubbed it over her slick centre to please herself. He easily glided inside her when she sat down on him, reaching deep inside her with every one of her bounces. She alternated between giving him a show, letting him watch the pleasure he gave her as she rode him, breasts bouncing with her steady rhythm, and leaning down to kiss him messily, all tongue and teeth and desperate groans. She sucked and bit his skin, pulled at his hair and dragged her short fingernails down his chest. If he wanted a devil between the sheets, she was going to damn well give him one.

Harry was understandably awestruck underneath her. He still managed to return her roughness, kissing her hard and squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples so she yelped loudly. She bit his lip harshly for that one, retreating when she tasted the metallic flavour of blood. She was going to apologise – she didn’t really mean to hurt him like that – but Harry looked up at her with so much desire that she realised he _liked_ it.

A tight hold of her hip was surely going to bruise her when she purred in his ear how good he felt inside her. The hand moved down to squeeze her ass, further driving him crazy as it had her then moaning in his ear.

“C-come with me,” he stammered desperately, groaning as she ground her hips against his. Taylor nipped at his earlobe before she pushed herself up on her hands resting either side of his head, moaning freely as she circled her hips to give herself perfect friction. Harry looked up at her in wonder, cursing as he rubbed at her breasts, matching her movements as best he could.

“C’mon, baby,” he urged as she threw her head back with a frantic “ _fuck_ ” he found ridiculously attractive. Arms beginning to shake, she collapsed back on top of him, thankful when his hands moved their way back to her ass as he thrusted up into her quickly and roughly, meeting her hurried rocks until he suddenly filled her with a forceful emission, warm fluid spreading inside her as Harry’s jaw dropped in what was quite possibly the sexiest moan she had ever heard – ever would hear.

He hugged her tightly to his chest as she was overcome with her own orgasm, her body shaking with the strength. Even after she relaxed, she kept her head buried in the crook of his neck, eyes still squeezed shut. Harry stroked her hair with one gentle hand, soothing her as she wondered through her euphoria where the heck _that_ side of her had come from.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor eventually whispered, almost inaudibly. Harry immediately turned his head to her, and she felt his laugh rumble in his chest underneath her.

“What on earth are you apologising for?”

With some reluctance, Taylor propped herself up on her elbows, avoiding his eyes as she assessed the damage she’d done. Already she could see bruises littering his neck, a clear bite mark of marginally crooked bottom teeth indenting his shoulder. She ran her fingertip lightly over his swollen lower lip, wondering if it was painful.

“I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, and the lips underneath her finger broke into a smile.

“Are you kidding? That was– fuck, that was the _hottest_ thing,” Harry laughed, and she knew he was serious. She knew, she was just stunned.

“Fuck, Taylor,” he grinned, hugging her back to his chest; she was glad to rest her head back down. “Fuck.”

“Is that a good fuck?” she asked quietly.

“It’s the fucking best fuck in the history of fucks.”

A small smile curved her lips, and she gently kissed his shoulder, taking more care than she had in the heat of the moment.

“I don’t normally…”

“Taylor, love, these last few days, I’ve had the best sex of my life,” he said bluntly, a broad smile in his voice. “Granted, I haven’t had a lot, but still. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

Twisting a strand of his dark hair around her finger, Taylor was glad he couldn’t see her face flush. “You’re the best I’ve had, too.”

Harry’s arm folded over her shoulders, a comforting security. She didn’t realise she had dozed off until his voice startled her, his hand lightly patting her to settle her again.

“You’re an angel, love,” he said softly, “but god, you really know how to sin.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

Taylor felt like she was walking on air.

For days, Taylor felt like she was on top of the world. That’s what suddenly connecting with someone did to you, you know. Suddenly finding that someone understood you and adored you and wanted you for all that you were was the best feeling in the world. For a romantic, there was nothing better than falling in love, and that’s exactly what Taylor was feeling.

She had felt it when she took him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on her day off as promised, watching his wondrous gaze as they wandered around the current exhibitions on display. She had felt it when they later made their (albeit awkward) way to High Line and Harry had let her push him around the path in his wheelchair, attentively listening to her identify the greenery that thrived in such an unexpected place. She had felt it when she took him to a café after and treated him to New York-style cookies, his face contorting into total bliss as he took his first bite into the gooey chocolatey goodness.

“Dear god, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he’d said through his decadent mouthful, and she had felt it when he swallowed and smiled at her with so much brightness.

She felt it when they went to bed and he kissed her profusely, thankful and admiring every time she made him come. She felt it when they cuddled and she fell asleep tucked under his arm, and she felt it when he was at ease enough to sleep soundly with her too.

No, there was nothing that could drag her down.

Thanks to their timing, they had managed to acquaint themselves intimately more than enough before they were forced to take a break. She always did seem to be especially in the mood before her monthly came, which they had certainly made the most of. Taylor had to admit, though, she could do with a rest; it would be nice not to wake up sore between her legs for a bit, as enjoyable as the act was.

For as long as she had been taking the pill, she could not remember her period not arriving right on time, so it was rather disconcerting when she went to the bathroom on Wednesday morning to find nothing there. It wasn’t too big of a deal; what was an hour or so’s difference? A neatly folded tissue tucked into her underwear would catch anything she missed.

She went about her day as usual, dressing in black shorts and a thin top tucked into the high waist, looking well-presented as always for work. She kissed Harry’s forehead when saying goodbye, giving her cats friendly scratches before heading out the door.

It was rather an average day at the shop, which Taylor quite enjoyed. That was the thing about landing a dream job: even on the quiet days, it never felt like a chore being there. The florist was like a second home to Taylor.

She had almost forgotten all about what hadn’t happened in the morning until she slipped into the bathroom in the afternoon to discover much of the same. The tissue, while crumpled, was clean.

Taylor didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

It was silly though, wasn’t it? She couldn’t possibly be pregnant. While not strictly covered, she had taken precautions – she never would’ve slept with Harry _once_ if she hadn’t. Taylor was _smart_. She knew better than to go in (or rather, have a guy go in) without any kind of protection.

But this wasn’t normally a problem for her, so maybe she wasn’t as smart as she liked to consider herself.

Taylor gave herself the day. If she went the whole day with no action and it was much the same the next morning, _then_ she could start to worry. Until then, it wasn’t any cause for drama.

When she awoke after a restless night, not unlike Harry’s own, Taylor found him lying beside her with his hair across his face, tickling his nose. She brushed it out of the way for him and his lips twitched up slightly at the corner, like he was smiling in his sleep. It was sweet, and she lightly kissed his forehead without disturbing him.

Her stomach dropped when she got up to go to the bathroom to confirm her suspicions that today was just another day; she could tell when she woke that her period hadn’t yet come. Was it cause to panic? All of Taylor’s usually rational senses were screaming yes, and a part of her was tempted just to start to cry.

She had to face another day at work though, and she did so with her usual composure. She gave no one reason to question whether she was alright or not, even when she Googled whether it was normal to be late like this (it was, and the more she thought about it, she realised it had in fact happened to her before, only without a sex life) and she started to psych herself out and began to think she felt sick. Even if she _were_ with child, it would be too early for that.

A trip to a pharmacy on the way home likely would’ve been wise just to settle her, but that was a step Taylor wasn’t yet prepared to take – she was probably just being dramatic, after all; two days wasn’t all that concerning. This happened to women all the time.

Although, some of those women weren’t wrong in their panic.

When she finally retreated home for the day to find Harry immersed in a nap on the sofa, having fallen into a deep enough sleep that he was softly snoring, Taylor was relieved: for one, she was glad he was getting the rest, and two, she didn’t have to speak to him for a while longer.

If it was true, could she really go through with it? It definitely wasn’t the way she had always pictured it, that’s for sure. Turning twenty-five in a few months, Taylor thought she was still too young – or at least, she wanted to be in a stable long-term relationship first, preferably with a ring on her finger. But Harry… Harry was in a completely different place in his life. Five years wasn’t all that much of a difference in retrospect, but it was a quarter of his whole life. He wasn’t ready to walk down the aisle and raise a child with someone he had only met mere weeks ago. He couldn’t even buy himself a drink at a bar, for god’s sake.

Taylor knew she wouldn’t have the heart to ask him to drop everything for her, as much as she might want to. For Harry, as wonderful as he was, was sure to eventually realise that she wasn’t as exquisite as he thought she was. The effects of the spontaneous misfortune that had brought them together would wear off, and Harry would move on, find another pretty girl to call his muse. She was only temporary – she had to remember that. To him, she would just be a summer fling, and she refused to be that girl who fell for the wrong boy and clung on longer that she should.

No, if it was real – if she really was in that unlucky 0.1% that the pill didn’t do its job on – then Taylor would not ask him for help. Harry would be free to go back to England or wherever his inspiration may take him, and she would be perfectly fine on her own.

Now, as she lay on her bed struggling to absorb any of the sentences in the book she had open in her hands (she’d read the same paragraph near ten times to no avail), Taylor was tempted to call her mom. The very thought had her flooded with guilt for the disappointment it would surely cause, but her mom had always stood by her through everything; no one would love her unconditionally like her mother.

_Mother_. God, Taylor wasn’t ready to be a _mother_.

As a testament as to how deeply lost in her scrambled thoughts she was, Taylor didn’t even hear Harry stir in the next room. She should’ve composed herself before she let him see her, but there wasn’t time: he stopped in the doorway, took one look at her teeth trying to clamp down on her quivering bottom lip and the anxious position she held herself in, and he knew something was wrong.

“Taylor?”

Startled, she blinked hard. She was not going to cry.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked, immediately regretting risking her voice: it wavered, making her sound weaker than she wanted to.

“I slept fine.”

How long had it been – half an hour, an hour – since she got home? Her phone was still in her bag, and she couldn’t recall how long she had been sitting there attempting to read.

“Is everything alright?” Harry tentatively asked, and for a moment, Taylor wished he wasn’t so damn _nice_.

“Fine. Did you, uh. You can make yourself dinner. I’m not hungry.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Harry pressed, and this time she heard the familiar click of crutches against the floorboards. He set them aside and climbed up onto bed with her, clearly having no intention of leaving until he received an answer he believed.

“I’m just tired,” she sighed, which was true. She had had better sleep than last night’s, that’s for sure.

“Is it…?” He gestured vaguely at her lower half; of course he knew what was supposed to be going on down there at present. If it weren’t for that, they’d happily be ridding each other of their clothes by now.

“I’m fine, Harry,” Taylor said, trying to sound firm and coming out more like she was on the verge of tears. Which she was, and as much as she didn’t want to be, she was relieved to have Harry there to wrap her up in his arms when they decided to fall.

Harry only held her. As she fell into his comforting embrace, curling up in a ball which he held tightly in place, he did not try to get her to talk. He just let her cry, let her feel what she needed to feel. Somewhere in between, she could no longer distinguish what she was crying for: the uncertain future, or the awful thing she had overseen in the past.

Because she hadn’t truly cried about that, had she? There was the time she had phoned her mom right after, but ever since Harry had come to stay with her, Taylor had withheld for his sake. She felt like she needed to be emotionally in check for him, but perhaps that wasn’t as necessary as she had thought. Perhaps she had needed to be held like this just as much as he had. Perhaps that was okay.

By the time her flow of tears ebbed to a sniffle, Taylor felt like a weight had been eased off her shoulders, if not rather disgusting as well: she’d soaked the front of his shirt, and she hated to think what blotchy state her face was in. She didn’t yet look up at him, keeping her eyes closed as he slowly stroked her hair, a few wet tendrils sticking to her cheeks.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Harry spoke slowly and softly, like she was a small animal he might frighten, “but I’m here for you, too, you know?”

“I know,” she whispered, because even though she hadn’t said anything, she had always known right from the start that he would be there to listen. She really trusted him, especially now.

Still stroking her hair, Harry contemplated a while longer. “It’s not me, is it? Why you’re upset?” he asked, and before she could even muster up a sarcastic reply that not everything was about _him_ , he went on. “’Cause I know I’ve really overtaken your space, and I’m really sorry about that. ‘s just… I meant what I said – about not wanting you to think I’m taking advantage of you. You really, really mean a lot to me and I’m… well, maybe I should’ve made that clearer before we started, um, sleeping together.”

Taylor paused, letting the words she already knew sink in. “I know you’re not using me for sex.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he said, totally relieved. “I thought– well, I thought maybe I was being a bit, um, asking too much, and you were just kind of going along with it.”

“Believe me, there’s no problem with me wanting to have sex with you,” she reassured him, smiling a little as she felt his laughter underneath her cheek. “What am I to you?” she had to ask, and that laughter stopped, his seriousness returning.

“Where do I start? You’re my angel, though I’m pretty sure you already know that. You’re my muse, my far too generous roommate, my best friend, my walking encyclopedia of all things horticulture.” She giggled the tiniest bit and Harry’s lips curved in a grin. “You’re the one that makes every day _so_ much better; it’d be miserable shit spending all these weeks stuck in a cast without you around. You keep me sane, and inspired. And I was, um, kind of hoping that you’re also, like… my girlfriend?”

His voice went higher on the end, and even though he was cringing at himself, Taylor only found him all the more adorable. “Are you asking me out?”

“I’ve been trying to all bloody week,” he chuckled. “I’m, um. I’m not very good with this stuff.”

“I’m hardly an expert.” She wiped her hand under her nose; nothing said _I like you_ more than dribbling all over and using someone’s shirt as a tissue. “But I wouldn’t mind being asked more romantically.”

“Angel, if it’s romance you want, it’s romance you’ll get,” Harry promised with an affectionate squeeze. “I just need to make sure you’re alright first.”

Ah. He probably wouldn’t be so inclined to be romantic if he knew what had _really_ set her off.

“I’m okay, I’m just… scared,” she admitted quietly.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Of what?”

“Of… of what could happen.”

Of what could be happen _ing_.

“Sweetheart, if there’s one thing I learnt from getting hit by a car, it’s that life– what?”

Firmly clamping her lips together, Taylor fought harder to suppress the giggle bubbling inside her. “Nothing. It’s not funny.”

“Something’s obviously funny to you,” he said, voice turning playful.

“If there’s one thing you learnt, it’s to never cross a road ever again,” she finished for him, only teasing. She was relieved when it made him laugh, jumping a little in his arms when he chastised her with a pinch on the bum.

“Bloody cheek,” he grinned, shaking his head. “Now you’ve made me forget my philosophical point.”

“It can’t be that philosophical if you can’t remember it,” she countered, apparently on a roll now. Harry evidently agreed, since he started to tickle her to get back at her; Taylor involuntarily laughed loudly, squirming on the spot. She tried to wriggle free, which only ended with her falling flat on her face, forehead smacking into the blunt edge of his cast with a painful thud.

While at first she wailed, Taylor was laughing again as she rolled over so her head was resting in his lap, looking up. Harry looked only mildly concerned through his own laughter.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grinning.

“That _hurt!_ ” she cried, and she whacked him – albeit not that hard – in the chest without thinking. Harry flinched, immediately prodding her ribs in return.

“I _bruised_ mine – you can’t do that!”

“You put a dent in my forehead!”

“Oh, boo hoo, princess!”

In giggles, the pair poked and jabbed each other, playful yet a tad painful. Taylor felt guilty for actually hurting him by pressing her finger into a tender spot in his ribs, making up for it by leaning up to kiss him, long and arduous.

Harry scooped her up and held her protectively, cradling her head as their mouths connected in harmony.

While she doubted their longevity, there was no questioning his current adoration for her.

“You should be the one getting a mark on the forehead,” she commented when she broke away, and he looked at her dubiously.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, like Harry Potter.”

Taylor traced a lightning bolt on his forehead and Harry just rolled his eyes, still smiling.

“If you let me borrow your glasses.”

“No way.”

“I’ll show you my wand.”

Both of them snickered stupidly, and Taylor pulled back in for another kiss, letting him know that yes, she wanted, but no, not right now.

“You walked into that one,” he spoke against her lips, and she grinned, “I know,” back.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, looking down at her carefully as she traced the line of his jaw with a gentle fingertip.

“Yes,” she sighed. There was still a knot of worry in the pit of her stomach, but she felt better for the laughter. Wallowing wasn’t going to do her any good, but laughter always would.

“I’m glad, love,” he said softly. “’m gonna make us something to eat, alright? You can just relax.”

“Thank you.”

Smoothing his hand over her hair, Harry smiled at her, fondly kissing her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be fine, love. The future’s an extraordinary thing.”

Stopping in the doorway on his way out, he looked back at her with a pleased smile. “Hey, that was my philosophical point. The future’s extraordinary.”

Taylor smiled back; he was right. And maybe having a more complicated future wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

When Taylor hunted through her handbag during her break the next day at work, she found a folded piece of paper tucked under her water bottle. She hadn’t put it there – she could immediately tell as much by the doodles in fine black pen that covered it that she was not the author of the note.

Opening it up, she found surprisingly neat cursive script printed with a surround of mismatched flowers on never ending vines.

> _Roses are (sometimes) red,_  
>  Violets are (halfway between magenta and) blue,  
>  Sugar is (definitely) sweet,  
>  But not half as much as you!
> 
> _Miss Taylor ~~Alison~~ Angel Swift, will you pretty please with a cherry (do you even like cherries?) on top be my girlfriend?_
> 
> _PS. If yes, I’ve got a surprise for you when you get home. Have a lovely day, my angel  
> _ _H xxx_

A _note_. Harry had written her a _note!_ It was so unexpected and tugged at her classic romantic heart strings that it left her grinning like an idiot in the back room of the shop.

She was almost tempted to text him asking what happened to her surprise if she said no, but she rather preferred waiting to see him in person again later. She wouldn’t mind writing a letter back, actually, if it weren’t for the fact she would make it home way before it would be delivered.

The notion of a surprise gave her some extra excitement to occupy her mind over the remaining hours of her shift. What could he have possibly come up with on such short notice? After all, he must’ve written the message overnight while she wasn’t awake to watch. _Unless_ , he had been planning it for longer than she thought, just waiting for the right time to show it to her.

Either way, Taylor could hardly wait to find out.

After shutting up shop and finishing the end of day work at a quarter to six, Taylor forced herself to make the detour she had been dreading before heading home to Harry and whatever it was he had planned. She felt like every set of eyes was watching her as she walked through the pharmacy until she found what she was looking for, and when she went to the register, she kept her eyes down, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.

In reality, no one cared at all whether she was buying a pregnancy test. There was even a rational part of her telling her that it wasn’t necessary to buy one when it had only been a few days – Google had, after all, assured her it wasn’t uncommon to miss a period – but the screaming side of panic in her was insisting it needed to know for sure _now_ before her paranoia drove her crazy.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been too scared to open up to even Selena, who could’ve been her gentle voice of reason. What she needed most right now was a level-headed friend, and even though she felt guilty for keeping it a secret, Taylor was too afraid to say something, as if doing so might make it real. She didn’t want to be told she was being overdramatic either, since she was fairly sure she probably was.

She shoved it into the very bottom of her bag where there was no chance of Harry seeing it.

Whatever Taylor had been expecting to find when she made it back to her apartment, it certainly wasn’t Harry sitting shirtless in a circle of flower petals and tealight candles. It looked like some kind of weird ritual – a séance, perhaps. If speaking to the dead was his idea of romance, maybe she had him pinned all wrong after all.

In the wide circle laid glasses and space for plates, waiting for the dinner she assumed they were having there. There was a huge bouquet of flowers in the middle – they weren’t any of hers, and they barely fit into the largest of her vases he had found. Where they came from, she hadn’t a clue.

When she opened her mouth to marvel at the set up, Harry raised a hand, halting her. “Yes or no?” was all he asked, eyes focused on hers as she stood a few paces away, and she immediately broke into a grin.

“Yes! Of course, yes.”

Ditching her heels and her handbag, Taylor hurried to kneel down in the petal circle with him. Harry reached for her hands, having found a smile of his own, and he gave them a light squeeze.

“Did you like it? I know it wasn’t much, but–”

Taylor cut him off with a kiss, one she had been waiting all day for. “I loved it. And this – what is all this? Where did you get these flowers from?”

“I went out and–”

“You went _out?_ ” she interrupted incredulously. “How? Where?”

“My friend from life drawing. He wasn’t busy and I asked if he could do me a favour,” he explained, undeterred by her instant concern. “I would’ve gone on my own, for you.”

Despite her inner protests that it wasn’t safe for him to do so, Taylor’s heart still fluttered at the sentiment. “So where did you get these from?”

“A rival florist,” he replied, eyes gleaming. “Actually, I got two bunches and rearranged them together into one big one. I know I haven’t got your eye for it, but do you like it?”

“I didn’t even realise they weren’t professionally done,” she admitted with a laugh, looking over the bright bouquet of tulips and lilies and roses.

“I’ve been dying to buy you flowers,” Harry told her, and she was leaning back in to kiss him again without even realising first. “’ve got dinner, too,” he added, lips brushing hers. “It won’t take long. Oh, and I got dessert.”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“’s no trouble. I wanted a nice night with you.”

“What would you have done if I’d said no?” she had to know.

Pursing his lips, he considered it. “Well. I would’ve been upset. And embarrassed. I might’ve just run away.”

“Good luck with that,” she teased, patting his restricting cast. “Also, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Um,” he laughed, dimples popping as he was hit with a lighter kind of embarrassment. “I thought, ah, not wearing one might be more… fitting, with the aesthetic I was going for.”

“Uh huh,” she sarcastically agreed. “You taste like chocolate.”

Harry’s face gave a tell-tale flush. “Do I?”

“Mhmm. Did you–”

“Yes! Alright, I ate the last cupcake and got frosting on my shirt.”

Giggling, Taylor kissed him again, tasting the lingering hint of the chocolate cupcakes they had baked together one night. With only one left in the container in the morning, she wasn’t surprised to learn it was now gone.

“Why didn’t you just put a clean shirt on?” she pointed out, glad that he hadn’t. Looking at him and all his impulsive tattoos was always fascinating.

“I wanted to wear _that_ one,” he whined, earning himself another adoring kiss.

“I don’t mind you like this.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

They kissed for a little while longer, until Harry thought he best get on to preparing dinner. As expected, he rejected her offer to help, and Taylor remained sitting in the sweet circle, admiring the flowers before her. She identified the scattered pink petals as those from a Queen Elizabeth rose, the stem discarded for the sake of his aesthetic.

Olivia totted up while she was watching Harry in the kitchen, Taylor getting the chance for a bit of a cuddle while she watched Harry work. He wouldn’t tell her exactly what he was making, but she could guess from the appetising smells and sizzling pops of the bacon and sausages he had frying. He cut up slices of tomato and added mushrooms to the same pan, keeping watch of everything with focused attention. He heated a tin of baked beans and buttered a couple slices of toast, dividing everything up between two plates.

“Can you give me a hand, love?”

Letting Olivia go back off on her own, carefully putting her down away from the candles on the floor, Taylor hopped over to the kitchen, smiling as she rested her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You made me an English breakfast.”

“Yeah. I hope it’s alright,” he said, reaching for his crutches leaning further down the counter.

“Do you miss home a lot?”

Harry turned away from her to head back to their romantic little spot from the floor, and she should’ve already known the answer to that.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s hard being so far away from everyone, you know? When things happen it’s like… you can tell them, but ‘s not really the same as seeing them in person. And not knowing when you’re _going_ to see them again is…”

With the plates and some cutlery in her hands, Taylor followed him, making sure he got down on the ground okay before she sat opposite. “I can’t imagine what it must be like. Trying to find a time to see my parents is hard enough and they’re only in another state. I think you’re brave for venturing out so far on your own.”

“Either that or I’m fucking stupid.” He smiled at her with a touch of timidness. “I’m really glad I’ve got you here. I don’t… well, I don’t know how well I’d be handling all this without you.”

“I think you’re doing really well,” she smiled at him truthfully. “And you’re getting your cast off soon. That’s good news.”

“I might miss it a bit, actually; I’ve gotten quite used to it. I think I might be starting to smell a little, though.” She playfully tapped his arm and he grinned. “What? It’s _summer_. The hottest summer I’ve had in my life, actually.”

“What’s it like in England? Does it really rain all the time, or is that just a stereotype?”

“It doesn’t rain _every_ day,” he laughed. “But, um, if you’re used to summers being like this, you’d probably be disappointed.”

While they ate their comforting breakfast-at-night, Harry told her more about his hometown, the place where his creativity had been nurtured. He was always going to spread his wings, if only for a limited amount of time. There were plenty of places he wanted to visit, to learn and find new inspiration in.

Only now, he felt like the idea of not being alone in doing so wasn’t such an impossible dream.

“Do you think you’ll go back to Japan again?” Harry asked curiously, precariously piling some baked beans onto a half of toast. “The cherry blossoms look amazing.”

“They’re even better in person,” Taylor smiled in reminiscence. “I think I’ll definitely go back someday, but there are other places I haven’t been to that I’d like to go first.”

“Do you want to see the flower that only opens once every, like, ten years?”

“The corpse flower? I don’t know. It’d be cool, but like… I like flowers that smell nicer.”

Harry laughed, glad he’d swallowed his mouthful first. “That’s a good point. You know what I’d really like to see? The Northern Lights. At least once, I’d like to go.”

“Oh my gosh, that would be amazing,” she grinned at the thought. “You could drive from here, you know? It’s only a couple hours to Canada. There’s a train, too.”

“Have you been before?”

She nodded. “My brother came to stay with me for a couple weeks not long after I moved here and we stayed in Ontario. We went on one of those boat tours of Niagara Falls – it was one of the most incredible experiences.”

“I’d like to see Halifax – s’posed to be beautiful there.” Harry smiled back at her. “I’d like to go scuba diving somewhere, too; sounds fun. Maybe somewhere in the Med, or the Great Barrier Reef. I don’t know.”

“That would be beautiful. You should plan a trip sometime, since you’re not going to school yet.”

“Come with me,” he said with so much certainty she was glad she was sitting down. The fact he wanted to make those kinds of plans with her was a wonderful sign, one that made her heart swell.

“I’d have to see if I could get time off work,” she pointed out reasonably, trying to keep a rational hold on the giddiness she felt over the idea. It had been a while since she had last travelled, and she certainly wasn’t opposed to going somewhere with Harry. She had never been on a trip with someone she was involved with before for any longer than a few days; it sounded like a dream.

“I’m sure we could figure something out,” he smiled warmly at her. “There’s no rush.”

Unable to fight the urge, Taylor leaned over to kiss him, feeling his smile remain against her lips.

Once they finished their satisfying meal, Taylor rather impressed with his homely efforts, she relocated the vase to her bedroom and blew out the candles for safety reasons; she could never be quite too careful with the cats around. While Harry plopped down on the couch, Taylor slipped into the bathroom, sneaking the test from her bag along with her as discreetly as she could. She didn’t particularly want to do it now – she was in far too good of a mood thanks to Harry’s thoughtfulness – but she could hide it in the back of the cupboard for later. It could wait another day.

Only, it didn’t need to. Taylor nearly burst into tears of relief when she found dark spots of blood staining her white underwear (she’d been daring it to come ruin a good pair). Not a lot, but enough to erase her concern that the sweet but young man in the next room was about to father her children.

She took a couple minutes to sort herself out, trying to change her underwear and scrub the stain with soap before it really set in as subtly as she could. Harry didn’t seem particularly fazed by what she was up to; he didn’t even glance over when she slipped into the laundry to leave it to soak in some bleach.

What he _did_ care about, though, was when she returned over to him with an unmistakable glint in her smile.

“What?” he asked, obviously oblivious.

Shaking her head, Taylor cuddled up beside him, resting her hand on his cheek and kissing him like she might never have another chance. “I’m just really happy you’re here,” she told him softly, and Harry kissed her back like she was the most enchanting girl in the world.

They found a film to watch – a rom com, one that had the both of them elated that they had someone to share it with. Taylor contentedly leaned into him, relaxed by his finger absentmindedly drawing circles over her hip bone. He kissed the top of her head when it was over, then her forehead, the tip of her nose, then finally her lips. She couldn’t think of any other place she would rather be.

The last part of Harry’s surprise was dessert: a tub of cookies and cream ice cream, with a couple cherries to go with it.

“ _Do_ you like them?” Harry asked, having lugged himself over to the kitchen with her.

Picking one up off the paper towel she was drying them on after giving them a quick rinse, Taylor smiled as she popped it into her mouth. Harry grinned, tasting the rich juice in her mouth as he kissed her after she swallowed. It felt just as sweet as the fruit tasted.

They sat back together with their ice cream bowls, cherries on top, and their next movie choice was made upon finding a channel about to start _Titanic_.

“D’you like this film ‘cause of her name?” Harry teased, and she rolled her eyes.

“I like it ‘cause of young Leonardo DiCaprio,” Taylor quipped, nudging him with her elbow at the tad jealous expression he adopted. “Don’t look at me like that. Especially not when you’re not wearing a shirt.”

Harry merely stabbed his spoon into his ice cream, refusing to let up. His act was broken as soon as Taylor muttered, “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” and kissed him to prove she really didn’t have eyes for anyone else right now, famous or not.

“He doesn’t really look like that anymore, anyway. Kate’s still pretty fit, though,” he said once she pulled away, having her jaw drop.

“Great, now _I’m_ going to have to take _my_ shirt off so you won’t forget about _me_.”

“Not a chance in hell of that happening,” Harry promised, sneaking another kiss. “Though, I wouldn’t complain if you _did_ take it off.”

While she laughed, Taylor kept it firmly on. She wasn’t opposed to interrupting a movie for some affection (he knew that already) but she wasn’t a fan of fooling around while she had her period (!!).

They left their bowls on the coffee table once they finished their treat, relaxing back into their comfortable embrace. Both had seen the film before (who hadn’t?) but they enjoyed themselves nonetheless.

Taylor turned to him during the drawing scene, echoing Rose’s words in his ear – _“I want you to draw me like one of your French girls”_ – and sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. She kissed his neck and made no complaint when his hand slipped up her shirt, gliding over the smooth skin. He cupped her breast over the top of her bra, then rested his hand back on her waist safely.

The steamy car scene had her wishing she could simply sit on his lap and try to make him feel that good, but she resisted, settling for kissing him for a bit instead. That was something she loved about the beginning of a relationship – all the excited exploration, the craving to touch and the thrill of doing so. It had never occurred to her how much better it would feel to have the other person living under the same roof.

Harry pulled out his sketchbook after the credits rolled and he shuffled further down one end of the couch to get a better view of her. While it was rather odd to her, Taylor sat facing him with her head turned to the television, watching an episode of _NCIS_ while topless for him. He scratched away with his pencil, inspired, apparently not seeing anything strange in Taylor baring her breasts while a murder was investigated on the show on TV.

She didn’t have her hesitations about it anymore. There was an intimacy about being drawn, clothed or not. Harry really _looked_ at her – not just her exterior, but Taylor felt he saw things she kept inside. There was a deeper connection than purely physical. Taylor wanted to sit for him all the time, wanted to see what it was he saw.

“Come a bit closer for me, love,” he requested after a long while, frowning between his page and her chest as he added the final details.

“Are my freckles really necessary?” she asked upon glancing down curiously to see how he was going, finding him dotting in the specks on her cleavage.

“Yes,” he insisted conclusively. “I like them.”

His sketch of her waist to her turned head was expectedly good, yet Taylor still smiled in amazement at his talent. The way he crafted form seemed to come so naturally to him, like the simple trick of holding his pencil out in front of him to gauge scale was enough to create the perfect shape on paper. She loved the care he took in drawing her body, doubted she would ever stop.

“Thank you,” Harry said softly, lightly touching her waist as she gazed over the page. “You’re so beautiful, I… Thank you for trusting me.”

Her back slightly arched as he smoothed his hand up to caress her breast, gentle and without insistence. “I’m comfortable with you,” Taylor sighed needlessly.

“’m glad. I really like having you as my muse.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s muse before.”

“You might’ve, you just don’t know it. You’re definitely mine though, I can promise you that.”

She could see it in his work, feel it in his touch. Harry treated her like she was art herself, like she was a walking masterpiece to look up to and be inspired by. No one had ever regarded her in the way that Harry did, but then again, she had never before met anyone like Harry.

For a little while, Harry peppered her in affectionate kisses, along her neck and jaw on his way to her mouth. They eventually shifted, Harry resting his tired head on her lap and looking up at her in admiration. Taylor pulled her top back over her head, not that he minded. He could happily look at her all day, no matter what she was wearing.

Taylor stroked his hair, watching him as he smiled fondly at the soothing touch. She wasn’t the most comfortable to lie on, too bony to be nicely cushioning, but he didn’t complain. He just liked being with her, especially when her fingers trailed gently through his hair and over the sculpted features of his face.

“My mum would love you,” he said out of the blue, eyes crinkling closed as her fingertip traced down his nose. She kept stroking over his face then back into his hair, even after she realised he had lightly drifted off into sleep, contented by her tender touch.

The boy in her lap’s mother would love her, but not as much as the boy himself did.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Being Harry’s girlfriend certainly had its perks. While he couldn’t take her out to places the way he wanted to, he more than made up for it with his sunshiny presence at home. He kissed her and cuddled her, made her tea and cooked for her when she didn’t feel like doing it herself. He drew her and complimented her, made sure she knew just how much he appreciated her and everything she had done for him.

They weren’t talking about how soon it was that he was potentially leaving. True, he wouldn’t be his fittest self when he got his cast off, but he would be able to walk around, at least. If he could scale stairs, he wouldn’t need to stay with her anymore. But maybe… maybe she had been wrong in assuming that that was where their story finished.

After all, if someone planned on leaving you in a week’s time, why would they tell the people who meant the most to them about you? Why would they write little love notes with pretty drawings and leave them in your bag for you to discover while you were at work? Why would they wrap their arms around you and make you feel like they’d found home?

They wouldn’t. Not in any world Taylor wanted to be in, anyway.

“My friends think I’m making you up,” Harry had smiled at her one night, hand splayed across her bare back. “That the only way I could find a girl so extraordinary is if I imagined her.”

“And what, you went to all the trouble of making fake social media accounts to back up your elaborate lie?” Taylor smiled back in amusement. Her accounts were all set to private, but that didn’t stop him from screenshotting posts of hers and sending them on if he wanted to. She was guilty of it, anyway.

“Some people do it.”

“Well you don’t need to.”

They had taken a few pictures together using the Polaroid camera she kept safely in her room, normally used sparingly (film wasn’t cheap, y’know), everyone sure to believe that he couldn’t possibly have Photoshopped the one of the two of them kissing. Even with the soft focus, it was obviously them – and it was one the both of them wanted to hold onto.

She had slipped one into her purse, as cheesy as it sounded. She liked the little reminder that when she got home, she was going to find him there. It was a lot cuter than some of the notes he had taken to leaving for her, hiding them in different spots so they wouldn’t immediately be found, and it was certainly less mortifying.

“ _This_ ,” Taylor hissed when she got home when Wednesday came around, slamming the small bit of paper against Harry’s chest, “fell out in front of my _boss_.”

Harry smirked, apparently unremorseful for writing _‘Can’t wait to make you come tonight’_ in pretty cursive in the middle of a love heart he shaped out of a drawing of a vine. Sure, she appreciated the effort he had gone to to actually use pen and paper, far more romantic in her eyes than sending a sext, but not when the woman she worked for had seen it. Taylor had snatched it up quickly when it fell from her purse, but she couldn’t be sure whether Crista had had the chance to read it or not. She had been too horrified to meet Crista’s eyes to check.

“I didn’t know that was going to happen when I wrote it,” Harry said plainly, a challenging glint in his eyes. She almost wanted to hit him as much as she wanted to kiss him.

“You should’ve considered it.”

“Did you like it _before_ that happened?”

Damn. He had her there, and he very well knew it.

“Perhaps,” he thought, looking pretty pleased with himself as he took her hand, “if you let me go through with it, you’ll feel better.”

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

As he kissed the back of her hand, Taylor refused to give in. She wanted it – ever since she found out she was in the clear, she wanted it, but if he was going to be a cheeky shit, she was going to make him work for it.

“There’s a better drawing I did, actually,” he told her, looking up at where she stood in front of him beside the couch. “Do you want to see it? I was going to save it, but I can always rework it.”

“Okay,” she agreed, wondering where he was going with this.

Where he was going would’ve been even more embarrassing had Crista gotten a good look at it. After collecting his sketchbook for him, Harry flicked through to the page he was looking for, watching carefully for her reaction as he showed her the drawing of the space between her legs, reinterpreted with flowers on vines instead of plain lines.

“Do you like it?” he asked, as always. “I was thinking of you.”

Taylor didn’t know whether or not to be flattered by being in his thoughts while he drew an artsy vagina crafted out of nature. She had to admit, it _was_ quite nice – and tasteful, considering.

“It’s pretty,” she admitted finally.

“But you don’t want to put it up on your wall,” he guessed with a grin; he’d gotten quite good at reading her.

“Would you?” she laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind it, actually.” Turning the book back around to face him, he nodded. “I like it. Like, everything’s connected to nature. There’s no reason to be shy about the body when it’s all natural, you know?”

“You come out with some surprisingly wise things, you know?”

Flashing his smile up at her, he tossed his hair aside. “What do you mean ‘surprisingly’? Don’t you think I’m smart?”

“I mean,” Taylor grinned back, swinging her leg over and sitting herself down comfortably on his lap, “you’re so young.”

“Oh, and you’re _ancient_. Practically a dinosaur compared to me.”

“Oh, yeah. You should be scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of angels.”

Both giggling, they pressed their lips together, Harry putting down his sketchbook and resting his hands on her waist instead, melting into their newly accustomed familiarity.

After a while, Taylor broke apart a couple inches, brushing her hand through his hair. “You were gonna help me with watercolours today.”

“’m liking this better,” he smiled cheekily, tilting up to kiss her again.

“But I wanted to learn,” she spoke against his lips, smiling back when he leaned back with a sigh. “C’mon. Do this for me and then we can do whatever you want.”

“ _Anything_ I want?”

She rolled her eyes. “Within reason, yes.”

“In that case, up you get.” He patted her thigh and she laughed, giving him one more kiss.

With an artist in the house, Taylor had been wanting to learn a bit more herself while she had the chance. She wasn’t that good at drawing – her creative eye was much more trained at designing floral arrangements – but she was always open to learning something new.

Harry turned out to be a rather kind teacher. Setting out the watercolours she wanted to play with, he gave her a brush and some special paper, taking his time in showing her the technique he had been taught. He was patient and diligent, offering advice without being condescending and always cheering her successes.

“If you do it like this,” he said, carefully swiping his brush dipped in blue paint, adding a little more water on one side of the circle he drew, “you can do bubbles.”

“That looks so cool!” Taylor marvelled, immediately trying to copy it. She didn’t quite get the crisp outer line and the light reflection that he had, but it wasn’t terrible. He helped her with a couple more goes until she was happy with them.

When they ran out of space, Harry ripped a new page out of his pad and he guided her in how to paint some flowers. The more she tried, the more confident Taylor felt with what she was working with. She found it rather peaceful, actually, similar to what she felt when she was sorting flowers.

“You’re pretty good at this, you know,” Harry smiled at her softly, watching over her careful brush strokes as he sat beside her.

“I’ve got a good teacher,” Taylor easily replied, glancing up to smile back.

“Watercolours have never been my strong suit,” he shrugged modestly. She’d seen some of his watercolours before: he _was_ good. “’m better with acrylics. Watercolour is very pretty, though. I like the softer way the colours sit.”

“I like it too.”

Once she filled the page with her multicoloured pansies, Taylor signed her initials in the bottom corner, rather pleased with her efforts considering she was by no means a painter. She asked for another bit, only a square piece of standard paper half the size of the others.

“It’s gonna be harder on that,” Harry warned her. “It doesn’t absorb the water the same way.”

She didn’t listen. Making him look away, Taylor still tried her best to paint another pansy on it, thought it didn’t turn out quite as good as her others. She painted a red love heart beside it, trying to emulate what he had shown her with the bubbles. In the centre, she added ‘T+H’, regardless of how cliché it was.

“For you,” she declared, finally letting him look at what she’d done. It brought a bright beam to his face, and he rested his hand on her cheek when he kissed her as a thank you. “You can have a note to keep, too.”

“I love it,” Harry said without hesitation. “Do you like yours? I didn’t mean for anyone else to see them. I can stop, if you want.”

“Don’t you dare.” Taylor quickly kissed him assuredly. “I love them. I look forward to seeing what you’ve got for me.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. You make my day.”

As she kissed him again and he mumbled “Really?” again in that same hopeful tone, she fought from rolling her eyes.

“Harry, babe, you don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I can’t help it. Everything about you… amazes me. I still feel like I’m in a dream. Like, maybe I’m in a coma and none of this is real.”

Taylor pinched his arm, ignoring his protest of pain. “Do you still feel like you’re in a coma?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been in one before. Maybe this is normal.”

“Oh my god.”

Shaking her head, Taylor couldn’t pretend she didn’t love the way he was smiling at her, as ridiculous as he was being. She wouldn’t change him one bit.

After they took a break for dinner, Harry got his turn to have his wishes fulfilled. They were relaxed out on her bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms as they made out for a long while. Kissing Harry was a lot of fun, as was having his capable hands move along the curves of her body. He took care of her; she doubted the enlivened feeling she got with him would ever dull.

They were interrupted by Taylor’s phone buzzing on the nightstand. When she propped herself up to take a look at the notification she’d received, Harry instantly began kissing her neck, unfazed by her move to pull back.

“It’s my mom,” she read, and Harry merely hummed in response, his hand roaming up to cup her breast while his lips still pressed to her neck. Obviously, he was more interested in her than anyone else right now.

Taylor reached over for her phone, ignoring how inappropriate it felt to have a boy feeling her up while she was reading a text from her _mother_. “She wants to Skype,” she let him know, holding back a sigh as he moved his mouth down her collarbone.

“Right now?” he asked, breath hot against her skin.

“I think so.”

Pulling back, Harry moved his hands around her back, smiling up at her. “Talk to her, love. We can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not a dick,” he laughed. “I’m not going to stop you from talking to your mum just ‘cause I want to kiss you.”

“Do you want to meet her?”

“Do you want me to meet her?”

With a small nod, she had Harry grinning up at her. “She wants to meet you.”

“You might want to neaten up first,” he teased, sliding the thin strap of her dress back up onto her shoulder for her. Her cheeks flushed, and he gave her swollen lips another kiss.

After sending a text back letting her mom know she would be ready soon, Taylor climbed up to check her appearance in the mirror. She didn’t feel it necessary to dress up for family – they had seen her in her most relaxed state, after all – but she thought it best not to look so obviously like she had been making out with her boyfriend only minutes earlier. There wasn’t much she could do for her lips, but a brush through hers and Harry’s hair made them look tidier.

She set her laptop up on the mattress between them, both getting comfortable while it loaded up. Harry was fidgeting on the spot, apparently not knowing what to do with himself. He was nervous, though she was sure he had nothing to worry about; her mom had had mostly positive reactions whenever she mentioned anything about him, which had been increasingly more often as the weeks passed.

“Are you okay?” Taylor asked when she saw him wring his hands together in his lap.

“I don’t know how to sit,” he replied unexpectedly. “I want to touch you, but– I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

Smiling at him reassuringly, Taylor took one of his hands in hers. “My mom’s not gonna care if you’re innocently touching me. My parents aren’t super protective. You don’t have to worry so much, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed, yet his palm remained a little tacky.

A couple minutes later and their call connected, and Taylor was filled with a familiar warmth as the image of home filled her laptop screen. She squeezed Harry’s hand, sensing him relax just slightly as they sat close with their shoulders touching.

“Hi, mom,” Taylor grinned. “This is Harry.”

“Well I was wondering when I’d finally get to meet you,” her mother smiled back at the two of them, expectedly looking a bit surprised by his attendance. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Harry replied politely. “I’ll be feeling much better next week once I get my cast off.”

“You’ve been healing well?”

“I think so. ‘s just my leg really that’s taking the longest. Your daughter’s been incredibly helpful to me; she’s very generous. I can’t thank her enough.”

Taylor bit her lip, unable to fight her smile. He didn’t need to be so complimentary, but she should’ve anticipated it, really.

“Or you, really,” he added. “Thank you for raising her to be so kind.”

The cheesiness had her heart melting, while she knew he was getting a tick of approval from her mom.

“That’s very nice of you to say, Harry. I hear you’ve been good to Taylor, too.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Taylor warned, though neither she nor Harry seemed to care about her embarrassment.

“I like to hope so. If anything, I’ve given her some pictures for her walls.” He glanced her way. “Have you shown her the first one I did for you of the cats?”

“Of course I did.”

It was hanging up on the adjacent wall, Taylor having found space to display it in her bedroom where she would always have the chance to admire it. She loved it.

“I’d like to see more,” her mom chimed in, and for a precarious few moments Taylor left the two of them alone while she went to collect his sketchbook and a couple of the canvases he had completed while he’d been staying here, as well as the watercolours he had helped her with earlier.

Much to her relief, Harry didn’t hold any of his more intimate pieces up to her webcam. Her mom really didn’t need to see any drawings of her without her clothes on – nor did her father, who made an appearance after a little while. She hated to think what they would think of their precious little girl posing naked for an artist, regardless of how good he was.

They seemed to love Harry. He said all the right things without trying too hard; he came across as genuine as she knew he was. She could tell he was nervous, but he was naturally charismatic. He didn’t do any of the things he shouldn’t – even the tattoos on display were left without comment, despite the general dislike her parents had for them. No, she didn’t think he really had anything to worry about.

“Tay’s my muse,” Harry explained with so much fondness she thought her heart might just burst out of her chest to get closer to his. “I don’t know how I would’ve survived the accident without her.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Taylor murmured, though when he looked at her with his intense gaze she felt her disbelief shatter.

“It’s true. You did all the right things when it happened, then gave me more than I ever could’ve asked for. _Thank you_.”

Oh god, his eyes were glistening and she wanted to kiss him all over, but not with her _parents_ watching. She settled for an innocent hug, making sure not to linger as long as she really wanted to.

Harry rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand, and one look at her mom on the screen and Taylor knew she appreciated the openness of his emotion. She had only ever wanted the best for Taylor, and while she couldn’t say anything for sure about Harry, he seemed like one of her better choices so far.

“Sorry,” he apologised when he glanced back up. “I’m, um. I’m good.”

They remained chatting with her parents for a little while longer, until her mom thought best to let them continue on enjoying their night together (she clearly didn’t realise what she’d interrupted).

“Can we just have a minute, please?”

Taylor blinked at him in surprise. “Okay,” she said slowly, looking back at her parents to say goodnight and wish them well before climbing up to return Harry’s art things back with the rest. She set them down in the lounge and hesitated against the wall where he couldn’t see her. Eavesdropping wasn’t exactly polite, but she was too curious about what it was he wanted to say to her parents without her there.

“She means so much to me,” she heard him say, keeping his voice low. “’m very thankful for everything she’s done and I just want both of you to know that I’ve never had any bad intentions. She’s… well, I don’t need to tell _you_ how extraordinary she is. But I want you to know that everything I’ve felt for her is real and it would mean a lot of have your acceptance of our, um, relationship.”

She missed what her parents’ reply was, but judging by the joy in his tone as he thanked them and told them what a pleasure it was to meet them, she gathered he had gotten the answer he wanted.

He was gonna get laid like he wanted too, which he was delighted to discover when she pounced on him when he called her back in, laptop safely closed.

“So you think it went well?” Harry smiled against her lips, returning each of her kisses as she sat herself back on his lap.

“You were perfect,” Taylor assured him, swallowing his laughter.

“Perfect, eh?”

“You’re so charming,” she sighed as she pulled away, relaxing into his hands resting on the small of her back. “And honest. Who wouldn’t love you?”

Harry’s grin was dazzling, and he kissed her again intensely. “I could say the same about you.”

“Thank you for not showing them any of our private pictures.”

“God, I’m not that fucking stupid,” he laughed, rubbing his hands over her back idly. “I want them to like me, not think I only fancy you for your body.”

“Though you _do_ really like it,” she teased, her smile hinting at a smirk.

“It’s one of many things.” He pressed his lips back to hers. “I’d fuck your mind if I could.”

Bursting into laughter, Taylor had him beaming at her, dimples showing deep. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, still giggling. “But thank you. I’m glad you think I’m more than just a pretty face.”

“You’re a lot more than that, love. I promise.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, green eyes following his fingers lightly trailing along her jaw. “It feels a bit odd to pick up where we left off after that, doesn’t it?”

She raised her brows. “What happened to wanting to fuck my mind?”

“I just met your parents!”

“They’re not _right here_ ,” she pointed out. “But okay, if you wanna keep waiting, that’s fine with me. I’m good on my own.”

Sliding off him, Taylor reached up under the skirt of her dress and hooked her fingers around her underwear, enjoying Harry’s amazed stare as she wriggled them down her legs. He did have a point, though – she wasn’t turned on the same as she was earlier, but they wouldn’t have a problem fixing that.

For a moment, Taylor thought he was seriously just going to watch her, but Harry darted his hand out to grab her wrist before she could actually touch herself.

“I want to,” he quickly told her, as if she didn’t already know that. “Just, um–”

He shut up when she used her other hand to unzip her dress and started to shimmy out of it. He released her wrist, hand falling slack on the sheets as she stripped down beside him.

“What, are you intending on keeping your clothes on?” she teased when he made no further movement.

“I want to go down on you,” he blurted out, cheeks flushing as if he’d never said worse.

“And that means you can’t be naked?” she challenged, reaching for his shorts herself. She tugged them down and rubbed over the front of his boxers, rewarded by Harry’s sharp intake of breath.

He pulled his top up over his head at her prompt, shifting to help her deal with getting his bottom half off. She climbed back on him and rid herself of her bra, tilting her head back as Harry ran his hands up to her bare breasts.

They touched each other for a while in the ways they’d learnt the other liked. Heat grew between her legs and his cock stiffened between their stomachs as they kissed and caressed, both easily losing themselves in each other and quickly forgetting everything that wasn’t the feel of the other.

“I want you,” Harry murmured, sighing a little as she ran her hand through his hair. They’d shuffled down so he was lying on his back, her body pressed perfectly against his. “Want you up here.”

He patted the space beside his head and her eyes widened slightly at the implication. “You want me to…?”

Harry nodded. “Is that okay with you?”

“I don’t want to… _squish_ you.”

A smile formed on his lips, and he kissed her lightly. “You’ve never…?”

“No…”

Her list of guys she’d slept with was short and she hardly considered herself an expert in the bedroom, not that that particularly bothered her. She didn’t mind trying something new, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t have nerves about it. The blush in her cheeks was an obvious indication of that.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable with it,” Harry promised her, running his hand slowly up and down her back.

“I don’t know… I mean, I’d like to have your head between my thighs,” Taylor replied softly, smiling as the colour in her cheeks deepened.

“I can take it slow for you. ‘m sorry ‘m a bit awkward with this stuff, with my leg and all.”

“You know I don’t care about that.” Sitting up, Taylor raked her hand through her hair, her heart beating faster in anticipation over what she was about to do. “Are _you_ sure you’re okay with it?”

“Fuck yeah,” he smiled wider. “Wanted to for ages.”

She laughed lightly; of course he did. “You’ll have to help me, okay?”

With Harry’s eagerness, Taylor found it easier to shuffle up the bed. It was weird – she felt supremely strange sitting on his face, of all places, but he aided her through her hesitation by holding her hips and guiding her down, wasting no time in running his tongue along her centre.

“What happened to slow?” she said airily after her moan of surprise.

“’m getting you used to it,” he countered, voice muffled by her presence above him. He licked her a few more times, his own moan reverberating against her sensitivity. “You’re so wet, angel.”

Clutching the headboard as she tried to hold her weight – she really was afraid of crushing him – Taylor hummed in response. She was, and he already knew it was all for him.

True to his word, Harry took his time in pleasuring her. He lapped his tongue over her leisurely, seeming to rather enjoy going down on her like this. With his broken leg limiting everything they could do, he had only done this to her once before, when he had sat on the floor and she had cleared the coffee table so she could lay down for him. He had been dying to do it again, and if she was honest, she had been longing for it too.

It was different this way. She felt a lot more open, more vulnerable. She didn’t think she would be able to get over the thought of _sitting_ on his _face_ , but with Harry’s tongue stroking over her bundle of nerves it was near impossible to think of anything other than how incredibly _good_ it felt.

As she relaxed into it, it began to grow harder to hold her weight, though she still tried not to give him everything; while she was thin, she was tall, and she didn’t think he particularly wanted every pound of her resting on his head. She naturally rocked herself a little, too, stopping when she felt it a bit odd.

“You can ride me, love,” Harry let her know, and as she glanced down she realised that he had been watching her the whole time, green eyes darkened with lust. “’s okay.”

Taylor gave it another chance, rocking her hips just slightly, sighing deeply as she bumped against his nose. God, it felt good. Why had she never done this before?

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” she exhaled in a moan as he sucked down on her clit. Her grip on the headboard tightened, and when she looked back down at him, she could see the excitement in his eyes as he stared lovingly up at her and her reactions.

Harry swirled his tongue around her entrance before sliding it inside, darting in and out teasingly. He licked her from bottom to top, swirling over her tip and pausing at just the right moments so her climax wouldn’t build too quickly. He was good at this. He was really fucking fantastic at this; she never wanted him to stop.

She let him know that with the moans she let slip. She wasn’t particularly loud, focusing on the addictive feel of his mouth on her rather than putting on a show, but he could see what he was doing to her. It was written all over her face, in the arch of her back whenever he sucked her in the way she especially liked.

It was against her control that she slumped on him, tilting her head back as she was overcome by her elation. She felt it rush right through her so intensely, all the way to her extremities; she couldn’t recall anything like it.

By the time she thought to climb off him and let him breathe, Harry had happily licked her clean. His face was glisteningly wet with a mixture of sweat and her arousal, yet he didn’t seem anything other than utterly thrilled. He was grinning as she flopped down on her back beside him; there was nothing she’d rather see after _that_.

“Did you like that?” he asked, and she had to laugh.

“What do _you_ think?”

Wiping around his mouth with the back of his hand, he chuckled. “I think you didn’t come like that last time.”

“It felt better than I thought it was going to,” she admitted, running her hand down her stomach. When Harry realised she had started idly playing with herself, he laughed as he swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own.

“What do you think _you’re_ doing?”

“I was just thinking how amazing you are.” She groaned as he rubbed her up and down. “You’re only proving my point, y’know?”

“I’m trying to.”

Smiling, Taylor rolled over onto her side facing him, encouraging him to do the same. He didn’t have the same manoeuvrability as her, what with his cast propped on the pillow that remained at the end of the bed for him, but she hooked her leg over his hip and easily shuffled up to him.

“Is this gonna be okay for you?” she asked, feeling his sticky hand rest on her ass while his neglected cock sat begging for attention between them.

“I think so,” he said, eyes squeezing shut when she lined him up and nestled him deep between her legs. He exhaled in relief. “Fuck, Tay.”

“Can you move, babe?”

On this angle, Harry was able to have some of the control he had given up over the last couple weeks. Taylor matched him in his careful thrusts, but she let him take the reins, set the pace. His measured movements had the heat between her legs burning, the closeness of their position filling her up completely.

“That’s it, babe,” she quietly encouraged, lightly digging her fingernails into his shoulder. In turn, he ran his hand up her waist, grabbing her breast and rubbing her nipple bluntly.

“I can’t wait to– to pin you down and– _fuck_.” His voice was thick in his throat, deeper with the extent of his pleasure.

“Tell me about it, baby.”

Harry struggled through his description of how he wanted to take her (the dirty details had her growing slipperier for him) until it became too much for him and he spilled inside her, moaning lowly with his release.

As soon as he regained his composure, he pulled out of her and rubbed her roughly until she was left sighing, too.

“Fuck me, Taylor,” he murmured, breath heavy as he pressed his forehead against hers. “You make me… you make me feel like ‘ve gone to heaven.”

“That’s what happens when you fuck an angel,” she quickly retorted, literally making him groan as if he were still inside her.

“You’ve no idea how sexy you are,” Harry enlightened her, kissing her with his lips parted. His tongue grazed across hers briefly, teasing. “Can I paint you?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean, can I _paint_ you? Like, you’re my canvas.”

Pulling back slightly, Taylor eyed him curiously. “You just came up with that now?”

“Well, no,” he laughed a little. “I, um. I wanted to see if I could borrow my friend’s studio before I asked you. He said I could use it next week. Are you working the day before I get my cast off?”

“I don’t think so, no. What do you wanna paint on me?”

“You’ll see.”

His eyes sparkled, and she didn’t think twice about trusting him.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Are you _sure_ he’s not going to come back early?” Taylor glanced nervously at the door to the studio, arms crossed over her chest. She hadn’t even taken any clothes off yet and she already felt exposed.

“He’s not going to come back ‘til I text him that we’re done,” Harry assured her, not for the first time. “I explained what we’re doing. ‘s cool.”

There was something mildly upsetting about Harry telling his friend about his vision for the day’s work before she told _her_ , the actual person he was working with. Taylor brushed it off with reason: to get access to his friend’s studio and ensure privacy, Harry had no choice but to explain.

Still, Taylor would’ve appreciated knowing he wanted her completely naked in advance. She was comfortable with it in her own apartment, but in a stranger’s studio – with the curtains drawn off the windows for optimal light, for that matter – she felt like crawling into her shell and never coming out.

“Love,” Harry sighed, looking up at her from his spot on the floor. He was setting up on a paint-splattered sheet covering the wooden boards, spreading out his colours and brushes. There was hardly any furniture in the small room, but there were artworks leaning against the walls left to dry, a photography backdrop set up against the wall that offered the best lighting. The backdrop was exactly why he had wanted to bring her here.

“You know your consent is most important to me. Nobody is ever going to see anything you’re not okay with them seeing.”

“What if people can look in?” Taylor pointed out in paranoia, moving over to peer out one of the windows. They were a few levels up a building, and across the street was another one just like it. She couldn’t make out the details in _their_ windows, but that didn’t completely settle her. “What if today is the block’s window cleaning day? What if they get to this floor and just stop to watch?”

“ _Taylor_ ,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “They’re not going to clean the windows. And even if they were, I think they’d appreciate seeing _this_ more than seeing people having sex.”

“Not if they’re perverted window cleaners.”

“ _Perverted window cleaners_ ,” Harry repeated in a lower tone, head shaking again. Clearly, he didn’t share her concerns.

“You owe me big time for this, you know?” Taylor reminded him as she turned back to face him, his hands raising in submission.

“My dick is yours,” he guaranteed, grinning as he finally got her to laugh.

Much to her relief, Harry did try to make her as comfortable as he could. As well as positioning her so she wasn’t in direct view of any of the windows, he let her keep her panties on until he needed them off. He took off almost all of his clothes too, giving her something interesting to look at while he took to the long process of painting on her body.

She wasn’t as good a model as she normally was this time. His brushes tickled and the blobs of paint were cold on her bare skin, making her wriggle more than she usually did. Harry had to keep a hold on her to keep her steady, until she eventually managed to adjust to the odd feeling of being decorated this way. Even then, his hand stayed a familiar comfort on her waist.

As he still refused to tell her what exactly he was creating on her, a mysterious series of pictures on his phone guiding his inspiration, Taylor let her eyes and her mind wander. She looked over the canvases in her line of vision: Harry’s friend Nathan, a guy a couple years older than her, was a professional artist with an edgy aesthetic. They were good, yet she liked Harry’s work better, perhaps a little biasedly so.

“Do you think you’ll get another tattoo soon?” Taylor wondered upon gazing over his inked skin. It always intrigued her; she couldn’t imagine permanently marking her body like that. It seemed too likely that she would end up choosing something she would later regret.

“I was thinking of getting your face on my thigh,” Harry replied in such a serious voice, it was only his smile that gave him away as he still focused on his work on her décolletage.

“How attractive,” she said dryly.

“I can look at it whenever I’m alone.” When she scoffed, he playfully smacked her thigh. “Stop moving, will you.”

“That was _your_ fault! And how many times have I told you I’m not a model?”

“As many times as I’ve said it’s bullshit.”

“Well, I’m not a _good_ one.”

“Oh yes, you’re bloody right you’re not – that’s why I’m sitting here with a fucking hard on while I’m trying to paint.”

As he leaned back to clean his brush, Taylor snuck a glance at his crotch, the only place still covered. Huh. She’d been too busy staring at his tattoos to notice that.

“Do you want some help with that?” she asked, and he shook his head as he dipped his brush into a mixture of light pink paint.

“Once we start, I won’t want to stop,” he acknowledged, smiling at her boyishly. Most of the time, she forgot how much younger he was.

“Besides,” he went on, “’s just, you know, _where_ I’m working.”

Putting brush back to skin, Taylor smiled, rather pleased as he went back to touching her left breast. He was being very delicate, not the same as when he was touching her out of desire, but his arousal was understandable. He did, after all, love her body.

It took ages. They stopped for snack breaks for sustenance; with Harry’s attention to detail, there was no chance of him finishing in under an hour. Two hours at least, she predicted, and that wasn’t including the time to photograph his efforts in the end.

“I really don’t think this is sanitary,” Taylor said when he got her to lay down, her underwear discarded off to the side with the rest of her clothing.

“All the paint on here’s dry, I think.” Harry glanced around them, as if that was what she really meant.

“How would _you_ feel if this was _your_ sheet and _your_ friend got a girl naked on it?”

“I’d wash it once they were done,” he grinned, carefree. “Just relax, love.”

“Do you really expect me to relax when you’ve got a paintbrush near my– _ahh!”_

“Oh come on, it can’t tickle _that_ much,” he laughed as he ran a long line down her stomach.

“Said the one not being painted!”

Taylor closed her eyes as he continued on down her torso, practicing the meditation breathing she had learnt at yoga as she tried to keep calm for him despite the tickling sensation of his brush strokes. It became more difficult the further he made it down, and she wrinkled her nose rather than wriggling again.

“Please be careful down there.”

“Aren’t I always?” Harry gave her a winning smile.

“I’m serious. Getting paint there can’t be healthy.”

“’m not going all the way, don’t worry.”

Relieved, another thought soon occurred to her. “What about when you take the pictures? I don’t want to be, um, _exposed_.”

“I know. You’ve got nothing to worry about, love, I promise.”

And so she trusted him, rather glad she did when he got distracted while leaning down for a closer look at his work and he began kissing her inner thigh. Taylor sighed, the feeling of his warm breath against her bare skin much more preferable than his paint was. She made no complaint when he couldn’t resist going down on her (despite his earlier apprehension of the like), found it rather a nice reward for her efforts so far. The intimacy engrained in their artist/muse bond was one she was always captivated by.

Eventually, after decorating about halfway down her thigh, Harry declared his work was done. Finally, she would be able to take a look at what living work she had become.

Taylor gasped when she looked down at herself. From her shoulders to her thighs, she was covered in an array of pinks – pastel pinks, the ones of the cherry blossoms she had seen on her coveted trip to Japan. He had recreated them in full bloom on her body, a masterpiece of pink sweetness that trickled out down her arms, her porcelain skin the perfect backdrop. She couldn’t believe it. What had been such a wonderful memory was now on her own skin; she felt transported back to the moment, could almost smell the flowery scent in the spring air.

She loved it. She absolutely, positively, truly loved it.

She went into the small bathroom to get a better look in the mirror, and when Harry clambered up on his crutches to stretch, he found her on the verge of tears. His brow furrowed in concern – not the reaction he had been hoping for.

“It’s beautiful,” Taylor gasped when she met his eyes. “It’s so beautiful, Harry; I can’t believe this.”

“Well,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe, a smile creeping up on his face as he realised she was a good kind of emotional. “I couldn’t very well do this on anyone else, could I?”

“It’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect,” she told him with all certainty. She glanced back at the mirror, amazed. “I look…”

“Like the most beautiful girl in the world,” Harry finished for her with complete honesty. “I knew you’d be perfect for this, but god. It turned out even better than I thought I would.”

“Have you done this many times before?”

“Never.”

Eyes widening, Taylor looked back at him, stunned. “Seriously? This is your _first time?”_

“Yep.”

“That’s so not fair! You’re not allowed to be _this_ good at something you’re doing for the first time.”

“Well I’m hoping you’ll be as good at modelling for the camera for me – c’mon, angel.” As he started to step away, he smiled in reconsideration. “Or should I say, _blossom_.”

“Don’t call me that,” she laughed, shaking her head.

It would’ve been much more convenient for them to do this _after_ Harry got his cast off, he realised when he got around to photographing his art. While he could easily position Taylor however he wanted, he was rather restricted by how he could move around to capture the angles he wanted. To his credit, he tried his very hardest to fulfil his creative direction whilst propped up on a stool and carefully getting up to balance on his one good leg, his much-loved SLR that he’d saved up to buy second-hand in his teens clutched in his paint-spotted hands.

Despite being totally naked, Taylor didn’t feel as self-conscious as she would’ve two months prior. With her breasts covered in blossoms, nipples blending in with the blooms, she didn’t feel as exposed as she was, and as he promised, he made sure she was always positioned so the private space between her legs was always hidden. She trusted him. She trusted him with all her heart.

“C’mere, c’mere!” Harry said excitedly after alternately adjusting his settings, peering through the viewfinder, snapping the shutter, and checking the LCD, at least, what, fifty times? Taylor skipped over, resting her hand on his shoulder as she took a look at the photo he had displayed. “This could be like, the cover of _Vogue_.”

“ _Vogue_ is about clothes, Harry,” she pointed out, though she understood where he was coming from. With the thoughtful bend of her knee, the slight arch of her back and her chin tilted up, she _did_ look like a cover girl. All the months of yoga had given her the kind of poised, toned figure that every girl in fashion magazines had. If the photo was of anyone else, she would’ve been a bit envious, if she was honest. How Harry managed to capture this side of her, she would likely never know.

“Are you trying to tell me this isn’t one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken?” he replied, gazing up at her with his characteristic playfulness. “And they do feature art in _Vogue_ , you know. They do in _British Vogue_ , at least.”

“I think you’re the most talented artist I know,” Taylor proclaimed, cupping his face as she gave him a promising kiss. She headed over to her spot in the centre of the white backdrop to let him continue posing her, and she could feel his smile following her.

“I’m the _only_ artist you know.”

“So it’s definitely true, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Harry ran his hand through his hair, pressing a few buttons on his camera before aiming it back at her again.

Once he was sure he had plenty of shots to immortalise his masterpiece, Harry finally called it a day. Taylor plopped down on the floor, no longer quite so perturbed by the idea of sitting bare on someone else’s belongings, and stretched her legs out, leaning back on her hands. As much as she enjoyed modelling for him, she couldn’t imagine doing it for a career; those girls worked harder than most people gave them credit for.

“Thanks so much for this, Tay,” Harry smiled at her as he lowered himself down opposite her, switching off his camera and setting it aside.

“I should be thanking _you_. You know how much this means to me.”

Some of the pink on her body reflected in his cheeks, and Taylor crawled over to him, sitting down on his lap where she had come to feel so at ease. She slipped a hand to the back of his neck as she kissed him slowly, sensing him relax as he draped his arms around her waist, the paint on her skin having safely dried by now.

“Thank you, Harry,” she spoke airily against his mouth, catching his bottom lip between hers as she kissed him again.

“Y-you don’t have to,” he murmured back shyly; how she could so easily have him in the palm of her hand, she would never truly understand. “Thank you for… for inspiring me the way you do.”

“Maybe we don’t need to thank each other so much,” she suggested.

“I still want to thank you for this. _Repay_ you, you know…”

And, with very little care as to whether his friend was going to walk in, Taylor did another thing she never thought she would do: she made love to the beautiful boy who made her feel like she was infinitely more than she ordinarily thought she was, right there on the paint-splattered floor.


	5. Chapter Five

For the very first time, on a Tuesday morning, Taylor saw Harry Styles walk.

Well, sort of. As he stepped out of the stark hospital room, he still had his crutches aiding him along, but his right leg was finally free. And as he looked over at Taylor sitting in a chair in the closest waiting room, he looked positively thrilled.

“How’d it go?” Taylor smiled as she stood up, going over to meet him halfway.

“Perfect. I’ve healed perfectly.”

Harry grinned broadly, laughing as she wrapped her arms around him and cooed, “That’s my baby.”

“The nurse liked my cast,” he happily told her as she pulled away. “She said it was the prettiest one she’d seen. She was a bit sad to cut it off.”

“I bet you weren’t.”

“Maybe a _tiny_ bit,” he giggled. “But it just feels great to be free again. Can’t wait to get out and, like, _live_ again.”

“Well, we’ve got the whole day to ourselves, babe. We can do whatever you want.”

Their first stop was for lunch, though they were in no rush; it wasn’t even quite midday yet. They decided to head a bit further out than usual, more toward the beach she and Selena favoured. A relaxing day out in the fresh air sounded like the perfect way to celebrate Harry’s good news.

Harry got to ride shotgun, finally. He happily strapped himself into the passenger seat, crutches in the back, and he watched her keenly as she focused on the road ahead of them.

“What?” Taylor asked when she realised him staring, only giving him a momentary glance in return.

“I’ve never seen you drive from this angle before,” he simply replied. “’s interesting.”

She nearly laughed. “How is watching me drive interesting?”

“Your concentrating faces. They’re cute.” He smiled at her ( _who’s cute now?_ ). “And when you want to sing along with the radio but you don’t, you tap the wheel with the fingers on your right hand.”

Briefly dropping her gaze to her hands clutching the steering wheel in front of her, she frowned a little. She didn’t even realise she did that.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You know I notice these sorts of things.”

“I do?”

“When you’re considering something you’re not sure about, you play with one of your rings, usually the one on your right middle finger,” Harry enlightened her, a sparkle in his eyes. “When you’re tired and you want to rub your eyes but you don’t want to ruin your make-up, you touch just below your eyebrows instead. I think you don’t want to disturb your contacts either?”

A smile brightened her features, and she reached over to touch his shoulder fondly. “When you’re concentrating, you do the cutest little frown. It’s like everything else around you disappears and it’s just you and whatever you’re working on.”

“Is it really… _cute?_ ” he asked, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his wary tone.

“You’re the _cutest_ , Harry.”

He groaned dramatically, slumping in his seat, though his grin matched hers as they turned a corner.

“The _cutest_ ,” Taylor sang emphatically, teasing. “The cutest, kindest, sweetest, sexiest, most talented–”

“Stop, you’re inflating my ego!” Harry cried, the both of them giggling in their seats.

They found a small café near the beach to stop at, Taylor routinely parking as close as she could find so Harry wouldn’t have to travel too far. When he got out, he leaned on the edge of the car as he shuffled up between the parallel-parked cars, and he received a disapproving look from Taylor when she rounded the car to meet him.

“Crutches,” she reminded him, nodding back towards the car. Harry gave her puppy dog eyes, reaching his hand out to interlace with hers.

“But I want to hold your hand,” he said quietly, and her heart sighed at the adorability of his sentiment.

“I’m not having you pushing yourself too far too soon. You can hold my hand when you show me you’ve gotten your strength back.”

“How can I show you that if you won’t let me walk on my own?”

“Smart ass,” Taylor smirked, giving him a kiss to satiate him.

After Taylor got his crutches out for him and he obediently made use of them, understanding that she was right in insisting he use them until he was truly ready, they made their way past a few shop fronts until they reached the café. They ordered and settled on the last available outdoor table, Harry rather relieved that he was no longer receiving any more not-so-subtle stares. He’d taken it in stride, but it was nice not to have any nosy attention.

They sipped icy glasses of fresh lemonade over their salads, perfect for the sunny summer day. Harry looked more at ease now – more comfortable, at least. He could stretch and bend both his legs however he wanted under the table, and he nudged his right foot against hers every so often, just because he could.

They headed for the beach afterwards, Harry having wanted to make the trip ever since Taylor had relayed her day out with Selena. She was hesitant about him trying to walk on the beach, but he asserted he would be fine. After all the weeks of exerting his arm muscles, he didn’t have a problem manoeuvring himself, though the soft sand did pose a challenge. Harry was determined, though, and he managed to slowly hop himself along beside her without disaster.

After walking a distance, passing by strangers who offered smiles, they plopped themselves down on an empty patch of sand. Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts, and Taylor leaned back on hers as they looked out over the ocean. It was a calm day, not enough wind to create a lot of waves, but there were some little kids still bouncing around on floaty toys with each routine roll of the water.

“I quite like it here,” Harry eventually broke the silence between them, his eyes still cast forward. “New York, I mean. I was shit scared about coming here, but it’s been good. Different.”

“Yeah?” Taylor glanced at him, watching wisps of his hair dance around in the light breeze behind the checked bandana he had holding his curly locks back. “I feel the same.”

He smiled, closing his eyes as he filled his lungs with a deep breath of the salty air. He was quiet for a long time again, the silence between them comfortable, the sounds of water and gulls and excitable voices swirling around in the background.

When he spoke, he took her by surprise.

“I love you, Taylor.”

Looking back at him, he looked completely contented. His lazy smile remained and he had leaned back on his hands too, both knees bent in front of him. His eyes fluttered open when he sensed she was watching him, and they sparkled a gorgeous clear green in the sunlight.

“I love you, too,” Taylor sighed with all certainty, her heart soaring as he brushed the sand off his hand before gently tucking her hair behind her ear, all of a sudden realising just how true it was. For weeks, they had been telling each other without saying the words; their bond ran deep, and Taylor knew that the feelings she had whenever she was with Harry and whenever she wasn’t were too multifaceted to be anything else. She loved Harry. She loved Harry, and saying it aloud made it seem all the more real.

“Your eyes look like the ocean,” Harry smiled at her, fingers lingering down her neck. They sent tingles down her spine. “They’re a beautiful blue.”

“And yours are a green like the gardens I love,” was her cheesy reply, and her smile widened as his dimpled grin crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I really love you,” he said, voice bursting with affection, and when he kissed her she didn’t doubt him for a single second. Nobody – _nobody_ – had ever made her feel the way that Harry did, like she was falling into something treacherous, but… but at the bottom, he’d still be there, green eyes bright and his smile like home.

If she had learnt anything over the last two months, it was that sometimes you had to wade through the dirt before you struck gold.

Harry was giggling against her lips as he scooted closer, sand flying up around them as he caught her off guard by pushing her onto her back and climbing atop her. Taylor squealed in surprise, her laughter mixing with his as he attempted to still kiss her. As soon as he was comfortable above her, she slipped her hand into his hair and pulled him down into a forceful kiss that enveloped their giggles.

“We’re in public,” she eventually reminded him, speaking against his lips.

“Nice observation,” he sarcastically remarked, groaning quietly as she gave him a chastising bite on his lower lip. “You can’t tell me off and then do _that_.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she challenged.

She really shouldn’t have. Apparently, the most appropriate form of punishment was Harry running his hands down her sides and tickling her, making her wriggle wildly underneath him. Taylor’s laughter was loud and infectious; as much as she tried, she couldn’t escape. Harry was a strong presence above her, and honestly, she didn’t really want him off.

The way she managed to get him to let up was an accident – one he brought on himself, mind you. In her squirming, Taylor ended up jerking her knee up, and with her leg between his thighs… well, none of the other guys on the beach were particularly jealous of him when the jolt of her leg caused him pain in an unfortunate region. Harry grunted, and while he was momentarily stunned, she took advantage of his weakened defence and quickly flipped them over, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down on the sand so he couldn’t tickle her anymore.

“You cheated,” he panted underneath her, grinning up at her.

“It’s your own fault,” she beamed back, trying to flick her bangs out her eyes.

“I think you should kiss it better.”

A beat passed between them before they both burst into giggles again. And as they messed around together on the beach, summer sun heating their skin, neither wanted to be anywhere else.

 

*** * * * ***

They hung around for hours, enjoying the pleasant day until the sun set across the horizon. Their lips were still sticky with sweetness from the ice cream they’d decided they deserved (Harry had gotten a double scoop that dribbled down his fingers and threatened to topple off his waffle cone) and as they watched the sun cast impressive bright pinks and oranges across the sky, Taylor sat between his legs and leaned back against his chest, contented with his arm slung around her.

As soon as the blinding orb dropped below the horizon line in its usual all-at-once fashion, Harry nosed her hair, the salt in the air clinging to her tangled blonde locks. “You know what, Taylor?”

“If you’re going to tell me I’m prettier than the sunset, I gotta say, that’s a bit too cheesy for even me,” she smiled, teasing, and she felt his laughter in his chest.

“Damn, you took the words right out of my mouth.” He kissed her ear, another on her jaw. “This might just be the greatest day I’ve ever spent at the beach in my life.”

“Well that’s not a hard contest. Where you’re from isn’t exactly known for its beaches.”

With a smile in his voice, he teased, “You’re ruining the sentiment.”

Linking their hands, she fiddled fondly with his fingers, feeling his warm breath against the back of her neck as he brushed her hair aside and kissed the top of her spine.

“Taylor?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s sand up my arse.”

She snorted, and he hugged her closer against his shaking chest, his laughter drifting by her ear.

They made their slow way back up to the car, taking their time as Harry got used to walking again. They tried to brush themselves off before they got in the car, not wanting to fill the interior with sand. It was a rather futile feat, but her car could do with a vacuum anyway.

With nothing planned for dinner, Taylor let Harry pick what he wanted, and after stretching in his seat he decided something indulgent and greasy was in order. They headed for her go-to pizza shop, and while they drove along, she noticed him fidget in her peripheral vision.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Peering over at her instead of his right leg propped up on the seat, his fingers still ran up and down his calf. “My leg hair feels weird.”

Taylor stifled a laugh, briefly glancing between him and the road. “Maybe because you haven’t washed it in two months.”

“It sounds disgusting when you put it like that,” he thought, wrinkling his nose. “I might need you to help me shower.”

“I’m not helping you scrub your weakling leg.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and while the strength in his right leg had declined, there was certainly no problem with his arms. It hurt when he punched her in the arm, only playfully, and it was a wonder how she didn’t veer off the road and give them brand new injuries.

“I’m driving!”

“I’m offended!”

He was giggling though, and when he distracted her next, it was when he leaned over to kiss her bicep that still felt a bit sore from the unexpected impact. If she hadn’t nudged him off, it wouldn’t have surprised her if he tried to get away with doing more to her. Harry was a cheeky one, that’s for sure.

They picked up a pizza and ate it together on the couch back at her apartment, like they’d spent so many dinners before, only now Harry could get comfortable however he wanted. He ended up falling asleep later as they were watching television, the combination of the fresh sea air and the excitement of the day catching up with him. He had his head on Taylor’s lap, legs curled up as he laid on his side, and she idly stroked his hair as she continued watching the show, volume turned down.

Meredith perched herself on the back of the couch, the swishing of her tail catching Taylor’s attention. She eyed her cat curiously; she was awfully suspicious of the arrogant stare she received in return.

“ _No_ ,” she whispered firmly as she watched Meredith’s gaze fall down to Harry; she knew what she was thinking.

Which was why she should’ve known that the cat wasn’t going to listen to her. Despite her next sharp, “ _Don’t_ ,” Meredith still took that discourteous dive right on top of Harry, startling him out of his nap as she used him as nothing but a step before she jumped to the ground. Taylor glared at her pet who wandered off obliviously, still soothingly stroking Harry’s hair.

“Sorry about that,” she apologised. “She just doesn’t really care.”

“’s alright,” he murmured sleepily, rubbing his eye. “Scared me, is all.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” she asked as he sat up and he shook his hair out.

“Think I should have a shower first.”

“Sand still up your ass?”

Harry laughed, smirking as he leaned in to kiss her. “Will you join me?”

“Not if you’re expecting me to pick sand out of your crevices,” Taylor retorted, smiling as she made him laugh once more.

Without his cast on, it was far less of a debacle for Harry to get clean; he wasn’t going to miss having a garbage bag taped to his leg, that’s for sure. All that was needed was for both of them to take off their clothes and step under the warm stream, Taylor testing it first, then Harry carefully stepping in after her.

She had never shared her shower before, and she quickly realised the practicality of it wasn’t so favourable. Harry dominated the confined space; there was barely room for the two of them to split the running water between them. But when he rested his hand on the small of her back and kissed her deeply, Taylor found no reason to complain.

With little regard to saving water, they took their time in shampooing and conditioning their hair, gently rubbing each other’s heads every now and then. They ran their hands all over each other, slicked up with squirts of vanilla shower gel to soften their skin. It was blissfully intimate, something Taylor, in all honesty, had never done before.

She touched him while his hands roamed her body, listening to the gorgeous sounds he made as her hand slipped up and down his length. It was different, having him standing before her; she wasn’t used to him upright, without aid, almost eye level with her. There was so much more she wanted to do with him, things he hadn’t been able to do because of the limitations his injuries brought on, and now, the future seemed even more so full of possibility.

Not quite trusting him not to hurt himself again while they were on the slippery tiles, Taylor made him wait longer for what he had been anticipating for weeks. With a towel wrapped around her body, she sat down on the edge of her bed, hair dripping on her bare shoulders as she watched him follow along after her, his careful steps testing how much weight he could comfortably put on his leg.

When he sat beside her, leaving his crutches flat on the floor, Taylor shifted onto his lap, such a familiar place for her to be. Harry’s hands slid around to her back, a smile on his face as she pressed her forehead against his.

“You’re getting me wet,” he said of the droplets falling from the ends of her curly bob down his bare chest, rolling down to the towel tied around his hips.

“I’m supposed to be saying that,” she smirked, kissing him when she made him laugh.

“Take that towel off and I’ll make that happen.”

Letting him remove it for her, Harry whipped off his own after he rolled her over onto her back. They shuffled further up the bed, and Taylor sighed as he settled above her, kissing her tenderly as their unclothed bodies pressed against each other. He felt strong above her; she felt safe in Harry’s grasp.

He held nothing back. Harry kissed and touched her all over; he’d clearly been paying attention every other time they’d been together, since now he had the control he was doing all the right things. He massaged her breasts and kissed her neck, brought his lips to her nipples and flicked his tongue over the hardened buds. He caressed her like she was a masterpiece he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch. And when he sat up to look at her, he sighed deeply with the fondest smile on his pretty pink lips.

Taylor wrapped her hand back around his cock that pressed against her thigh, biting her lip as Harry’s eyes closed and his head tilted back. “ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed under his breath, revelling in the rhythmic pumping of her hand. She didn’t even falter as she sat up herself and shifted onto her stomach, taking him into her mouth. He moaned louder, leaning back on his hands and breathing quicker as she bobbed her head on him, tongue swirling in practiced strokes.

Her name sounded flawless when he moaned it out as he filled her mouth with his orgasm. He dropped to his elbows, panting as she pulled off him and licked her lips. “Fuck me, Taylor,” he groaned, tossing his wet hair back.

“Please,” Taylor exhaled, lying down beside him. She grabbed his hand and guided it between her legs, smiling as it had him moaning again.

“Fuck me,” he repeated, voice deeper in lust. “You should’ve just let me–”

“Return the favour.” She turned her head to him when he made no effort to move. “What are you waiting for?”

A sly smirk began to tease his lips, and Harry slowly rubbed the tip of his finger over her entrance. “Ask for it.”

“I just did.”

“Not like that.”

Upon realisation, Taylor rolled her eyes. “You’re not making me beg.”

“We’ll see about that.”

To his credit, Harry tried his hardest to be a fucking tease. He touched her centre painfully slowly, never offering her enough friction to please her like he knew she was aching for. He ghosted his lips over her torso, kissing briefly here and there, until he situated himself between her thighs. His hot breath wafting over her sensitive skin was cruel, as was the way he sunk his teeth into her inner thigh, biting and sucking down to leave a bruise.

“God, okay!” Taylor eventually snapped. “Go down on me. _Please_.”

“I think you can do better than that,” Harry smirked up at her, kissing over the place he had left a purplish mark on her.

“Oh my god, Harry, I will kick you off this bed if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

“Ooh, feisty,” he teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows, yelping as she _actually_ kicked him.

“You deserved that.”

“I know.”

And Harry finally put his mouth on her, her back arching, and he certainly didn’t disappoint.

After a few minutes, Taylor was left lying in elation, Harry leaving a trail of kisses back up her body until he reached her lips. He tasted of her arousal and she loved it, loved how much he enjoyed bringing her pleasure.

He waited until she calmed down and she was happily kissing him, fingers tangled in his hair, before he sunk himself inside. Taylor gasped, pulling him closer as he reached deep inside of her.

“Okay?” he checked, lightly peppering her lips with quick kisses.

“Perfect,” she sighed, meeting his mouth in a longer kiss.

It only got better as he began to move. Harry was steady and thorough in his thrusts, hitting her deep with each of his measured movements. He kept it slow, letting them bask in the bliss of their joined bodies. He didn’t focus only on his own desires, but put everything into making sure she enjoyed it too; it was full of the tenderness that Taylor always adored.

Little moans and sighs left her lips as he kept his unhurried pace, Harry delighting her with the same gentle sounds. Taylor never wanted him to stop; he felt so, _so_ good inside her, and as she hooked a leg around his waist and opened herself up that bit more, she swore he felt even better.

Taylor breathed his name in his ear, moaning as he in turn gave a harder snap of his hips. She tugged at his hair, digging her nails into the base of his scalp. She didn’t realise that it slightly hurt him; he didn’t at all mind. He liked when she was a bit more forceful with him.

Unable to find the right words, Harry expressed how extremely he was feeling with his body. Taylor felt how much he loved her – god, he _loved_ her. Taylor had never thought that the boy she had met lying in the middle of the road two months ago would ever mean so much to her, would ever _love her._

Kissing him with all that she had, Taylor tipped him over the edge when she soon released around him, the pair of them clinging onto each other as they enveloped together in ecstasy.

Neither moved for some time, regulating their breathing and relaxing together. When Harry pulled out of her, he kept her close as he rolled onto his back, Taylor snuggling up under his arm. He pushed her hair back off her face for her; it was still wet and clinging to her head from where she had been lying on it, and while it might not have been her best look, wild curly tendrils drying on odd ends, Harry still smiled at her like she was the greatest girl in the world.

“Was that okay?” he asked her quietly, eyes full of hope, and Taylor had to stop herself from laughing despite the obvious answer to his question.

“I think I’ll be letting you take the lead more often,” she smiled, resting her hand on his cheek as she kissed him slowly, affectionately.

Harry’s dimples were on full show as they broke away. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, baby.” She kissed him again, his hand stroking over her hip.

“One day I’m going to repay you for everything you’ve done for me,” he promised her softly, yet she shook her head.

“You don’t need to,” Taylor insisted, tracing a finger along his jaw. “You already have. Just by being you.”

With his expression bursting with affection, Harry quickly pressed his lips back to hers, saying what he needed to with the passion behind his kiss. He rolled back on top of her, and that night, Taylor felt like she’d found the love she had always thought she deserved.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

As the days went on, Harry began to feel like his more normal self again. With his determination, he worked hard to regain his usual mobility. Taylor always watched over him – she was worried about him pushing himself too far too soon. She was always making sure he was still using his crutches, though she had a sneaking suspicion that he made do without them while she wasn’t home.

When she returned from work, she mostly found him immersed in his art or going through light exercises to help build the strength in his right leg back up as per his new physio’s directions; he was dying to get back on his bike again, but she wasn’t convinced it was a good idea until he could confidently walk again. Regardless of what he was up to, Harry was always happy to see her, and now he was able to get up to greet her freely like he had always wanted to.

There was still one thing bugging her, though. Taylor was relieved to see him up and about, but one thought kept niggling at her brain, reminding her that things were unlikely to stay the same once he needn’t depend on her anymore. One thing that, sitting together one night with Harry eagerly showing her a Scandinavian artist’s Instagram page, she felt the need to finally bring up.

“I guess you’ll probably be leaving soon, huh?” Taylor said quietly, as casually as she could muster. Olivia was sitting in her lap, contented as Taylor scratched her furry head.

Looking up from his phone, Harry wore a perplexed expression. He didn’t otherwise respond though, his face softening as he locked his screen and set his phone face down beside him. Eyes cast ahead of him, he rubbed his jaw as he contemplated. When he finally did speak, his answer was simple: “I like having a roommate.”

He met her gaze again and a soft smile spread on his lips, Taylor lowering her eyes back to her young cat as she admitted, “Me too.”

“’m not going to ask anything more of you,” he told her calmly. “’m very grateful for what you’ve already done for me. I understand if you’d rather have your own space again. It won’t upset me.”

Glancing back up, Taylor tilted her head. “It won’t?”

“Well,” his smile widened, “it _would_ , but I won’t be a dick about it.”

She smiled herself, especially as Olivia purred under her gentle affectionate touch. “Do you know how weird it would be to have you gone? It would feel so empty.”

“ _Actually_ , I don’t think you’d really get rid of me. I really like it here.” Harry looked around at the surroundings he had become so familiar with, rather fond of the home Taylor had welcomed him into with open arms. As much as Taylor couldn’t picture her life going back to normal if he left, Harry struggled to do just the same. He didn’t particularly like being alone for too long.

“Do you want to stay?” Taylor asked him outright.

“Would you be okay with it?” He looked back at her seriously. “Once I get back to work, I can help pay for rent and stuff. And I’m good at cooking and cleaning. It’ll be fair, I promise.”

“You really don’t have to sell yourself to me, Harry,” she smiled in amusement. “I already know I like having you around.”

“I was really worried you wouldn’t,” Harry laughed, shaking his head as he swivelled on the spot to better face her. “Like, I thought all my art stuff would end up driving you crazy.”

“Only when you leave jars of water and wet paint lying around.”

“There’s only been _one_ paint incident.”

“Yeah, and which one of us did Olivia hate when her tail was blue? It sure wasn’t _you_.”

Shrugging in a _not-my-fault_ manner, Harry merely grinned at the memory of Taylor wrangling the (not completely) white cat to try to get the paint out the tip of her tail thanks to the palette he had carelessly left on the floor. “It’s not blue now, is it?”

“You know what? I change my mind. I can’t stand you,” Taylor teased, the bright smile on her face betraying her words.

“I can’t stand you, either. I think you’ll kill me next spring. I get hay fever, you know.”

“Oh, you _poor baby_ ,” she replied with heavy sarcasm, giggling as he playfully nudged her shoulder.

“’m serious.”

“I know. Your eyes looked a bit watery when we went to the nursery.”

“I really like flowers, ‘s just, all the pollen. Upsets my senses.”

“My delicate little daisy,” Taylor sang, pinching his cheek. Harry tried to pretend he didn’t like being called that, but the smile fighting its way onto his face said otherwise.

“So is that a yes you’ll have me?”

She nodded, taking little time to debate it. The thought of him packing his bags hadn’t been a particularly nice one, and while she understood it was going to be difficult if their relationship didn’t work out in the long run, Taylor knew this was what she wanted, more than with any guy she’d been with before. She wanted Harry here with her, brightening her every day with the sound of his laugh and his creativity bouncing off the walls. She wanted him here to talk to and keep her company, and she wanted him here to hold and kiss whenever she wanted. Taylor had let him into her life on impulse, yet she didn’t regret a thing.

A part of her, she thought, had always known she wasn’t making a misstep in trusting Harry as a stranger. Her intuition was pretty reliable, and every day, Harry was still proving that.

“Can I ask – how have you been keeping up with your own rent all this time?” Taylor finally spoke up, letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, laughing a little nervously. “I, um. My parents have been helping out with it.”

“Harry! You should’ve said something earlier.”

“I didn’t want to guilt you into anything. I felt bad enough at the start that you were letting me stay here; I didn’t want you to feel like you _had_ to.”

“Well get it sorted out as soon as you can so you don’t have to worry about it anymore, okay? We can stop by whenever you want to pick up the rest of your stuff.”

“Are you really sure about this?”

Taylor paused, scratching behind Olivia’s ear where the feline especially liked it. “I’ve never lived with someone I’ve dated before. But… you were a friend first. And I really like having you around. I love living alone, but I love having you here. It was so quiet around here before, but now… it feels homier. Like you’re filling a space I didn’t realise there was something missing. If that makes sense.”

Reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear, Harry smiled at her softly. “I much prefer being here with you than being by myself. ‘specially since I don’t, like, have a lot going on for me here.”

“Well you’ve found yourself a pretty great girlfriend, so I’d say you’re not doing too bad for yourself.” Taylor winked at him and he laughed, leaning in to kiss her happily.

“You’re the greatest, Taylor.”

“I love how you say my name,” she sighed, giggling when he repeated it, lower by her ear.

“You only like me for my accent, don’t you?”

“And ‘cause you’re easy on the eyes.”

“I knew it.”

They grinned at each other.

“One of the conditions of moving in with me is that you’ll regularly make me tea – clothes are optional.”

Harry smirked back at her, brows raised. “You like a bit of a show, eh?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe.”

“You know, there were so many times I just wanted to lie here naked, it’s been so hot, but I thought best not, since it’s not my flat,” he told her, her jaw dropping.

“Harry!”

“T’was even worse with my cast heating up my leg. So nice when we got together and I could sleep naked again.”

Taylor slapped his arm, but she was giggling. She knew he wasn’t joking: it seemed very much like him. “Thanks for being so considerate of my feelings!”

“I quite like painting naked, actually. It’s very freeing.”

“You’re so weird,” she said affectionately.

“It’s all perfectly natural, Taylor. You should try it sometime.”

“What, walk around here naked? No thanks.”

“Why not? You do it when we sleep together.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

“Poor argument, Taylor.”

“You can take your clothes off if you want to, but I’m fine as I am.” As he reached to unbutton his shorts, Taylor laughed, quickly swatting his hands away. “Not in front of my baby!”

“Oh, she’s seen it all before.”

“My poor child!” she cried, scooping Olivia up and hugging her to her chest. Olivia wriggled at the unexpected repositioning but didn’t try very hard to escape. “It’s okay, my little princess,” she cooed to the soft animal. “We’ll get you some cat therapy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harry grinned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with a crazy cat lady.”

“I think that says more about your character than it does mine,” Taylor replied simply, smiling back at him as she still scratched at Olivia’s fur.

“You know what, you’re probably right.”

“I often am.”

He nudged her thigh before draping his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, angel, but I’m very thankful you’re mine.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

It took some time for Harry to sort out his lease; they moved his things into her – _their_ – place much sooner. It was a bit of a squeeze: his art books were too thick to all fit in her bookshelf and instead sat in piles on the floor beside it; her closet and drawers needed reshuffling so he wouldn’t have to live out his suitcase anymore; his bike ended up in the laundry room out of lack of space to put it elsewhere. His sketchbooks and paint and pencil sets remained in their relatively neat stacks near the windows, his tall easel now set up there too. His artistic possessions complemented rather nicely with her natural aesthetic.

The transition was pretty seamless. Taylor’s parents were a bit concerned at first, but they had faith in her decision. She was smart and sensible; she knew what she was doing.

Harry felt much more useful now that he was able to move around freely. As soon as he was off his crutches and got the approval of his physio, he was back to working at the Italian restaurant he had been lucky to land a job at when he first moved here – though he was first reassigned as a host rather than his usual position as a waiter. When he stopped limping so much, he would be trusted with carrying plates again.

Taylor’s jaw had nearly dropped to the floor when he got ready for his first shift. She had never seen him in anything other than t-shirts and shorts – she hadn’t been prepared to see him dressed up in a crisp black suit, a burgundy tie tucked into his vest. His hair was pulled back into a small but sleek bun and god, did he look handsome. Harry Styles sure did clean up well.

On a girls’ night out, Taylor and Selena decided to surprise him during one of his shifts. Both girls donned nice dresses and heels, were greeted by a pretty blonde in a white blouse and black dress pants as they entered the stylish restaurant. She introduced herself as Marissa, tilted her head curiously as she looked Taylor up and down.

“You’re Harry’s girlfriend, right?” she guessed, recognising her from a picture he’d posted on his Instagram; he liked posting some of his art, and with her permission, he’d published some of his drawings of her. “I’ll set you at one of his tables. He’s just started serving again tonight.”

He hadn’t been given as many tables as usual, only a few to get him back into the swing of things. He was stopped at one when the girls were seated at theirs, and Selena gave him an impressed once over.

“Damn, Tay. You really got lucky with that one.”

“Tell me about it.”

Harry made his feelings for her no secret. He was always making her feel special with his adoring gaze and his random acts of kindness: making her dinner, feeding the cats, leaving her notes, drawing pictures for and of her. While he was young with little experience (he’d been honest with her about the few girlfriends he had actually had), he wasn’t lacking in knowing how to express his emotions.

It was written all over his face when he first noticed them sitting on his third table. He tried to keep it cool, but Harry’s grin was of pure delight when he arrived at their side.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greeted them professionally, though he really looked like he wanted to throw his arms around Taylor right there and then. “My name’s Harry,” – he giggled – “and I’ll be your server tonight.”

“Taylor,” she playfully introduced, forcing him to shake her hand as she held it out. Selena did the same, and Taylor could tell he was struggling to stick to his usual script; he didn’t want to stray too far with his manager around.

“Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”

“Not yet,” Selena replied.

“Alright. Can I get you any drinks to start?”

“Some water for the table, please,” Taylor requested. “And some wine, if you could surprise us with something nice.”

“I certainly can.” Harry gave them a winning smile. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

He didn’t take long to return with a jug of water, ice bobbing at the surface and condensation already building on the exterior. He set it in the middle of the table, gave them each a wine glass and told them about the bottle of Garnacha in his hand. Pouring them both a splash to try, he filled their glasses halfway with their approval, leaving them the bottle.

“Would you like some more time to look over the menu?”

“What would you recommend?” Taylor asked, eyes shining up at him.

“Well,” he grinned, pulling his notepad out his pocket and twirling a pen between his fingers. “I personally quite favour our carbonara. And our Margherita pizza is a favourite, too.”

“Should we do the pizza?” Selena asked her.

“I love cheese,” Taylor nodded definitely. “And garlic bread. We need garlic bread.”

“Can do,” Harry said, scribbling it down on his pad.

“Do you do mozzarella sticks?”

“Did you _read_ the menu?” he quipped, glancing to his side to make sure his playfulness hadn’t been overheard. He added it to his list, smiling at them again. “Is that all?”

“I’d also like to take my handsome waiter home with me,” Taylor declared as she propped her chin up on her hand, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She loved teasing with him, and she grinned as he shifted on the spot, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss her.

“You and this damn suit,” he said lowly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Selena before heading off to drop their order off at the kitchen.

“Do I wanna know what you did the first time you saw him in that?” Selena asked once he was out of earshot. Heat rose in Taylor’s cheeks when she thought back to how she had almost made him late with her insistence that she needed to get on her knees for him _right then_ , then take her in it once he returned home later.

“No, I don’t think you do.”

When Harry swung back around to their table to drop off their entrées, he left a spare napkin under their basket of garlic bread. He gave Taylor a meaningful glance before he left them to get started, and she slipped it out once he walked away. Like she expected, there was a note scribbled on it in his familiar script.

‘ _Your boobs look amazing in that dress_ ,’ she read, and she couldn’t fight her smile.

“What?” Selena asked her through a crispy bite of bread.

Taylor folded it in half and looked over to where Harry had headed, slipping the napkin into her bra when she caught his attention. He subtly joined his thumb and forefinger in a circle in a gesture of approval, winking at her before disappearing into the kitchen.

“He liked the view,” she explained, and the brunette smirked when she realised what she meant.

“Well I’m sure glad I’m not staying at your place tonight.”

“So am I.”

They both laughed, Taylor biting the end off a mozzarella stick with a playful grin.

“We’re going to have to organise something, you know,” Selena was saying over their starters. “I want to get to know the guy dating my best friend better.”

“I think he’d really like that,” Taylor mused. “It’s such a shame he’s not twenty-one. God, I can’t believe he’s so _young_. Is that bad?”

Selena shook her head. “He’s totally crazy about you. He keeps looking over at you all the time.”

She was right: whenever he wasn’t focused on a customer, Harry regularly glanced their way. There were other women in the restaurant eyeing him up, but there was only one he ever looked back at with the same air of attraction.

“I don’t think it’s weird.”

“What?” Taylor asked, darting her gaze back to her friend sitting across from her rather than watching Harry chat with a couple at another table.

“That he’s younger than you,” Selena clarified. “The difference isn’t that much. Besides, he seems mature for his age.”

“You haven’t seen some of the things he’s drawn in the fogged up shower glass.”

Selena smiled; she wasn’t going to ask. “In your relationship, though. From what I’ve heard, he treats you with a lot of respect.”

“He does. Honestly, aside from my brother, he’s the sweetest guy I know.”

“ _Aww_.” Reaching across the table, she grabbed Taylor’s free hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so happy for you, babe. You’re so gonna get married and have a bunch of adorable creative kids and live happily ever after.”

While she was only joking about the last part, something must’ve flashed across Taylor’s face as Selena’s eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my god.”

“No,” Taylor was quick to reassure her. “No, I… I thought I was, but no. It was a false alarm.”

Expression softening, she asked, “Why didn’t you say something?”

She fiddled with her fork, dropping her gaze. She had known she wasn’t going to be able to keep it a secret forever, least not with someone like Selena. “I was embarrassed, and… scared. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“ _Babe_ ,” Selena sighed, squeezing her hand again. “You know I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“I know. _I_ was judging me.”

Leaning back in her chair, still holding her hand, a smile spread across Selena’s face as she sensed going into it seriously wasn’t what her friend needed right now. “You weren’t kidding when you said you two fool around a lot, were you?”

“I am _so_ not talking about this here,” Taylor laughed a bit nervously, hoping no one in their immediate surround was eavesdropping on them. It was personal enough talking about it in private, let alone when they were in the middle of a restaurant where anyone, including the boy in question, could listen in.

“I’ll get it out of you one day, my little vixen.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, but considering she had purposely worn a low-cut dress just to tease Harry the whole time they were there, knowing he would be begging the hours until closing time to hurry the fuck up so he could get home and take it off her already, Selena wasn’t really wrong.

The pizza Harry delivered them was, as promised, totally delicious. Light mozzarella strung out in thin strands with each bite, the red wine a perfect complement to the authentic dish.

The girls talked all through dinner; they were always like this together. Selena had her own date this weekend, with a guy she had met in the coffee shop by her office. Considering he had only seen her in her sophisticated work attire, Taylor was sure he was going to trip over his own feet when he saw her all dressed up for their evening at an inner-city bar. Selena was gorgeous, almost effortlessly so, and Taylor couldn’t wait for their Sunday yoga debrief. Things for the both of them seemed to be going really well; it was a wonderful feeling to share such joy with a close friend.

Harry interrupted them once their plates were clean, piling them up in his hand to clear away for them. He asked if they wanted any dessert, which, really, were they gonna say no to that? They ordered a generous slice of decadent chocolate coffee cake to share, prodding their forks into the treat as they still chattered away.

They eventually decided to call it a night, giggly from all the wine they had had to drink over the evening; both had work the next day, but they were sure they’d be fine. They flagged Harry down for the cheque, which he promptly delivered for them. Splitting it between them, both girls left extra bills as a tip, which Harry tried to shake off.

“You really don’t have to,” he told them, but neither relented.

“We loved your exceptional service,” Taylor grinned up at him, swiping a fresh coat of lipstick on; she had left a red stain on her wine glass. “We should tell your manager how highly satisfied we are.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Harry insisted, adjusting his collar. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“She’s just buttering you up for later tonight,” Selena cut in with a playful smirk, and Taylor kicked her under the table.

“I am not!”

“She knows she doesn’t have to do any buttering,” he smiled at her fondly. “Especially literal buttering. That sounds a bit too greasy to me.”

“Can we please not have this conversation here?” Taylor requested, cheeks heating slightly.

When the girls got up to leave, Harry finally broke the distance between them; the dinner rush had calmed down, so it didn’t matter so much if he was stopped to hug one of his customers.

“Thanks for coming tonight, love,” he said quietly, arms wrapped around Taylor’s waist. “’m glad you liked it.”

“I’m glad to see you doing well,” she returned genuinely. “I’m so proud of you.”

“We shouldn’t start getting all emotional here,” he suggested, a laugh in his voice. He pulled away and turned to Selena, giving her a friendly hug too. “’s good to see you again. You’re looking great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Selena smiled over his shoulder at Taylor meaningfully. “We’ll have to all catch up again together sometime.”

“Definitely.” After they parted, he reached back for Taylor’s hand, interlacing their fingers loosely. “Have a safe trip home, alright? I’ll see you later, Tay.”

Harry dared to sneak a quick kiss, nothing too much in front of people, and the girls linked their arms as they finally went to depart. Taylor received a few envious looks from the women still there who had had their eyes on him, but she didn’t notice a thing. She had her best friend, her boyfriend, and she was happy. That was all that mattered.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

While things were looking up, Harry still had a way to go. The healing of his physical damage was progressing along well, but it would take longer for him to emotionally recover from the accident.

He wouldn’t walk to the grocery store with her on the same route she had taken that fateful late afternoon, and Taylor didn’t blame him. She didn’t like walking it either, tended to deviate down a different street these days. It was only a small thing, silly perhaps, considering the chances of history repeating itself on the very same street were unlikely, but it was understandable all the same.

Taylor’s dreams had mostly eased off back to normal (if you could call some of the things that her imagination conjured up in her sleep that), but Harry was still tormented by nightmares. He woke up in cold sweats and occasionally called out in his sleep, feeling immensely guilty whenever he disturbed Taylor.

Of course, she was more concerned about him than she was about her rest being interrupted. Taylor gently woke him from his last, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close to her chest as tears flowed down his face. Harry clung to her, seeking comfort in her familiar trusting embrace; he hadn’t a clue what he’d do without her.

“’m sorry,” he mumbled shakily. Her loose tee was getting wet, but that really didn’t matter to her.

“You’re okay, baby,” Taylor promised him, her tone soft and reassuring as she rubbed his back soothingly.

“When will it _stop?_ ” he asked, voice breaking before he began crying harder. God, she hated seeing him like this. Harry was so wonderful – over the few months she had known him, he had proven to be nothing short of a genuinely good young man. If she could take away his pain for good, she would undoubtedly do it in an instant.

“I don’t know, baby,” she sighed. “But you’re okay. You’re not alone, baby.”

Harry whimpered as he inched closer, his hair flopping over his face. It stuck to his tear-stained cheek, but he made no effort to do anything about it.

As she still stroked his back rhythmically, Taylor kissed the top of his head, his cheek pressed flat against her chest. He held on tight to her, yet she could feel his heartbeat beginning to slow back down.

As well as embracing him consolingly, Taylor had taken to lulling him back into sleep with song. Only keeping her voice soft, sometimes simply humming, it turned out soothing melodies didn’t just work only on children. It relaxed Harry, gave him something sweet to focus on rather than what he’d just seen in his dreams.

Tonight, her voice barely above a whisper, Taylor sung him ‘Landslide’, stalling his tears with her gentle rendition of one of his favourite Fleetwood Mac songs. His muscles loosened and his grip on her eased, feeling safe once again. At least with Taylor, Harry knew he wasn’t going to get hurt; she would always look out for and after him.

The accident had initially tethered them together, yet it wasn’t what was keeping them together. There was a natural connection between them, one that made the other feel so much like a true companion even when they had hardly known each other. It had only grown over the last few weeks where the bud of their relationship had blossomed, bursting into a rich red rose (like a climbing Blaze, Taylor would say).

As awful as it was to think, maybe this was supposed to happen. They were _supposed_ to meet this way. For certain, if Harry had never been hurt, Taylor never would’ve invited him into her life on such a personal level so hastily. There was a good chance that they wouldn’t even be together if they had met under more normal circumstances. It was shit, but perhaps there was a very good reason why Taylor had been walking down that street and Harry crossing the road at the very moment they did.

With Harry drifting off back to a calmer sleep in the safety of Taylor’s embrace, it wasn’t so hard to believe that fate wasn’t a ridiculous myth, nor that angels weren’t only found looking down from above.


	6. Epilogue

“If you were a flower, you’d be a _damn_ -delion.”

“A dandelion is a weed, Harry.”

With the early afternoon sun shining down on them, Harry squinted through the bright light, making his dimpled grin look even sweeter than usual. “There’s no pleasing some people, is there?”

Taylor laughed, stretching her legs out on the checked blanket underneath them. With September upon them, the weather was, albeit slowly this year, beginning to cool into the perfect fall temperatures. Leaves were turning orange and there was cinnamon in the air (though that could’ve just been all the cookies Taylor had been baking, not to mention the pumpkin spice lattes she had started buying from Starbucks again), and Taylor was reminded why autumn, along with spring, was one of the best times of year.

“I appreciate the pun, but out of the thousands of types of plants out there, why do I have to be a weed?”

“Because it was the only pun I could think of, alright?” Harry reached over to pick another daisy out the ground, stabbing his thumbnail into the end of the last stem he’d collected and threading the new flower through. “And excuse me, how many times have you called me daisy? Are these not weeds also, Miss Walking Floral Encyclopedia?”

“Daisy sounds a lot better than dandelion, though, don’t you think?” Taylor pointed out, picking another strawberry out of the container between them. They’d decided to go out for a picnic at a nearby park since it was a nice day, bringing a collection of nibbles along for the ride.

“Oh, I see how it is. You can pick and choose as you like, but _I_ can’t.”

“If you’re going to be like that, I’ll go and find that dog that was chasing you again.”

Ripping up a handful of grass, Harry threw it in her direction, green strands fluttering around in a cloud around her. On their way, a rather intimidating dog hadn’t been too fond of Harry passing by, and all were glad that the owner had kept it on a leash (even if that leash did extend rather far). The last thing Harry needed was a dog bite to his healing leg.

“You, my angel, are a cruel mistress,” he dubbed, and Taylor playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

“Whatever, my _daisy_.” She had him rolling his eyes, and she grinned back in satisfaction. “You love it, pansy.”

“ _Pansy?_ ” Harry whined. “God no, not _pansy_. D’you you even know what that means?”

“Lavender.”

“No.”

“Thistle.”

“How is thistle a compliment? They’re all prickly. Am I prickly?”

“You’re so soft, my sunflower.”

“Ahh, see, sunflower’s much nicer.”

“Geranium.”

“Now you’re just naming plants for the fun of it.”

“Bluebell. Wisteria. Daffodil. Nasturtium.”

“Are they the ones they use the petals as decoration on food?”

She nodded. “You can eat them, yeah. They’re nicer to look at, though.”

“I wonder what daises taste like,” Harry mused, looking over the chain he was working on in contemplation. Before she had the chance to stop him, he plucked a petal off one of them and popped it in his mouth, chewing the small piece slowly, a studious frown on his face. “Doesn’t taste like much, really.”

“Oh my god.” Taylor shook her head, grinning. He could be a bit odd, yes, but she loved him. She loved him with all her heart, a feeling that wasn’t dissipating anytime soon.

“I don’t think we’ll be adding daisies to our dishes,” he decided, picking another from the grass. They weren’t looking their best in the changing season, but he was making do regardless. “I was thinking, this weekend, if you wanted to, we could check out this gallery in Westchester? I saw an ad for the exhibition, doesn’t look too bad.”

“Sure,” she easily agreed. “Did you still want to pick up some new canvases?”

“Yeah. I’ve got an idea for another big one,” Harry beamed at her, and she almost didn’t want to ask.

When they had transported his things into her apartment, Harry brought the unfinished pink-washed canvas along with him, though he had abandoned his original purpose for it. Instead, he had reimagined one of his more recent works: the cherry blossoms he had painted on her and photographed (which turned out amazing, mind you). This time, he had painted her bare from memory, twisting branches of cherry blossoms around her and thoughtfully covering her breasts. As much as she’d said she wasn’t interested in being painted on something _that_ big, it was a beautiful surprise. She didn’t even mind that he planned on making the theme part of a series, nor that he had shown it to a few people. It was modest, he was talented, and he received nothing but good feedback. Taylor was really proud of him (even if he _had_ painted it without any clothes on, because apparently he hadn’t been joking about that).

“I can picture it now: a gallery full of these pink pictures of you.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who would really appreciate that,” Taylor countered, but Harry shook his head.

“Nah, love. It’d be a huge hit – if I do say so myself.” Grinning, he reached for her thigh, running his hand over it fondly. “And I’d be the lucky one that gets to call you mine.”

“You would,” she smiled back, leaning over to kiss him. It lasted a little longer than their usual PDA, but no one was watching, anyway. “What are you gonna call it?”

Harry sat back, quirking his lips to the side in thought. “How does ‘Blossomed’ sound?”

“Considering your subject, kind of like I’m a teenager who just developed a woman’s body.”

“I think I’ve blossomed,” he said, disregarding her point. “I feel like I came here as, like, a sprout, and thanks to you watering me I’m now a flourishing flower.”

Taylor raised her brow at him. “ _Watering?_ ”

“Does that sound dirty?” He ran his hand through his hair, chuckling a little. “Though I have to say, I certainly feel like I’ve flourished when I’m covered in your come.”

“You _cannot_ say that in _public!_ ” she gaped, kicking him in the shin. Honestly, she should’ve known by now that he was always going to come out with these kinds of brazen things when she wasn’t expecting it.

In spite of his protest, Taylor kicked him again, playfully swinging both of her bare feet at him. “Don’t crush my daisies!” he cried as she went to push him over, climbing over on top of him carefully. They wrestled around a bit until she got a grip on his wrists and could pin them down either side of him.

“Minx,” Harry panted up at her, smirking. “You’re going to make me come in the middle of the park.”

“Will you _shut_ _up?_ ” Taylor laughed, glancing around to make sure there was no one within earshot. There was a woman walking a fluffy little dog on a footpath a good few metres away, but she didn’t think he’d been loud enough for her to hear, thank god.

“What’s the matter, Tay? I thought you liked it loud,” he teased, then, unashamedly, gave a rather accurate impression of one of her girly moans. She might’ve been impressed if it weren’t for how purposefully vocal he’d been.

Doing the first thing she thought of, Taylor leaned down and kissed him hard to quieten him. While it got him to stop talking, he still moaned underneath her, though it was one of his own, lower and softer than his imitation. Harry relaxed, giving into her like he did every single time.

“Is this what I get for falling for a younger man?” she murmured jokingly, and he smiled against her lips.

“I thought you _liked_ all the sex.”

“I do. What I don’t like is the entire population of New York knowing what we do.”

“Then you might want to get off me, you hypocrite.”

Harry was giggling as she released his hands and she shifted back off him, playfully tapping her ass as she moved back to her spot. Taylor swivelled her head around with the intention of flashing him a warning look, but instead she was grinning stupidly. Yes, they were silly, they were teasing, and he could be rather unpredictable in what thoughts he spoke aloud, but neither would change a thing. What they had was, actually, just the kind of bond they wanted and had been surprised to find when they least expected it.

“I love you,” Harry smiled at her truthfully, picking up his daisy chain when he sat up. He pushed his thumbnail through the last stem and joined both ends, beckoning her to come closer. Carefully folding it over itself to form two overlapping circles instead of one big one, he placed it delicately on top of her head. “There. Now my angel’s finally got a crown.”

“Angels have halos,” Taylor pointed out, and he flicked her knee.

“ _My_ angel has a flower _crown_ ,” he emphasised with a grin, giving her an adoring kiss. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Taylor beamed brightly, kissing him again. “I love _you_.”

“You look so beautiful,” Harry admired as he trailed his fingers down her jaw. “Can I take a picture?”

With her permission, Harry snapped a photo on his phone of her posing sweetly with her cute crown. He sent her a copy upon her request, which she posted to Instagram (‘@hsart’s not so bad at the flower thing ;)’). Proudly, he was the first one to like it.

He wasn’t going to give her a run for her money on the floral front, though. Harry happily championed her, all the arrangements she brought home and the pictures she had on the store’s Instagram page. Her artistry intrigued him, and he used it to help guide his own work. It was fascinating, the way they inspired each other in their different creative paths.

Harry was helping her develop her drawing skills, actually. They worked together on more watercolours, which Taylor was pretty proud of. She got her own journal to stick her pictures in, as well as some flower pressings she did from the bouquets she brought home. It was kind of therapeutic, actually, spending a couple hours losing herself in her imagination. No wonder Harry had managed his tribulation so well.

When they decided to get back on the move again, they slipped their shoes back on and packed up their things, folding the picnic blanket and putting their containers back into Taylor’s bag. They set them in the front basket of her cruiser – she’d finally let him start using his bike again, and their picnic had been part celebration of his further freedom.

“You good?” Harry checked as he picked his bike up off where it lay on the grass and swung his leg over the side. Taylor settled in the saddle of hers and nodded, carefully sliding her daisy chain around her neck so it wouldn’t fly off once they started riding.

“I’m good.”

“Why couldn’t the flower ride his bike?” he unexpectedly asked, and she gave him an odd look.

“Why?”

“Because his petals fell off,” Harry grinned ridiculously, putting his feet to his pedals and pushing his way across the grass, leaving her to smile and roll her eyes at his joke behind him. He headed for the footpath and Taylor soon followed after him, struggling a little to get started on the soft surface.

They went along at a leisurely pace at first, finding a comfortable rhythm side by side. Harry pushed further ahead of her whenever there was someone walking in the opposite direction to them, courteously giving them room to get past. After the second time, he didn’t slow down again, instead calling back out to her, his voice carrying behind him.

“Wanna race?”

“You’re already ahead of me.”

“Guess you’ll just have to try harder, then!”

He began pedalling faster, extending the distance between them, and Taylor laughed as she watched his dark curls blow wildly in the wind. Harry looked over his shoulder at her with an exuberant grin, deep dimples and crinkled eyes. He looked young and playful and _so_ gorgeous, but most importantly, he looked happy. Truly, completely, full of carefree joy.

“C’mon, angel! Loser buys ice cream!”

Gripping her handlebars tighter, Taylor hurried to catch up to him, a grin on her own face. She knew she wasn’t going to beat him – even though he was out of practice, he ordinarily made more use of his bike than she did. She didn’t care, anyway.

For the young man ahead of her – the one with paint-stained fingers and adoring eyes, who wrote her love notes and made her morning coffee, who had been through an unfair accident and found strength and inspiration in the woman he called angel – was finally free.


End file.
